


Slayer

by SignCherie



Series: Slayer [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/SignCherie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has been the vampire Slayer for ten years, and she despairs at nearing the end of her supernaturally shortened life. But when she meets her new Watcher, the shyly nervous Rumplestiltskin Gold, and his teenage son, Baelfire, everything begins to change.</p><p>A Vampire Slayer AU with woobie!Rum as Belle's Watcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Vampire Slayer AU in which Belle in Storybrooke became the Slayer instead of Buffy in Sunnydale. The events of B:tVS never happened, and we are dealing with a world similar to the one at the beginning of the Buffy series, only years later. There is no fairytale world in this AU.
> 
> This is pre-Curse Spinner!Rum.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

 

Rumplestiltskin Gold clutched the steering wheel of his rental car. There was no reason to be nervous. He was a Watcher. He was meeting the Slayer. She would be expecting him. All he had to do was go in there and say, “Hello, my name is Rumplestiltskin…”

…and watch as she burst into laughter. Like everyone did.

No. He wouldn’t say that. He’d say, “Hello. My name is Mr. Gold. I’m your new Watcher.” He would be calm, and collected, and cool. Like James Bond. And the Slayer would be impressed.

This was a new place, anyway. Nobody knew him in Storybrooke. He could tell people his name was something else. Rum, maybe. Rum sounded cool. Like a fun nickname. When the Slayer asked after his first name, he would tell her it was Rum. She wouldn’t know no one had ever called him that before. This would be a new start.

Rumplestiltskin breathed deeply and tried to channel James Bond. “Hello,” he said to the steering wheel. “My name is Mr. Gold. I’m your new Watcher.”

The steering wheel did not reply.

Right. No time like the present. It wasn’t as though this would get easier if he put it off.

Rumplestiltskin grabbed his cane and pushed open the car door. The martial arts studio loomed ominously before him. Trying not to think about what he was doing, Rumplestiltskin limped to the door and entered.

At first he thought the room was empty. It was a one-room storefront with a desk at the front and a large practice area, with not a soul in sight. As he stepped further in, he spotted her. The Slayer. She was slouched on the floor behind the desk, her back against the wall.

Immediately his heart began to pound. Something had attacked the Slayer, leaving her hunched and unresponsive on the floor. Something that might still be here. Rumplestiltskin’s hands trembled violently on his cane.

Then he saw what was in her hands. A book.

Oh.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. There was no threat. The Slayer hadn’t been hurt. She was curled on the floor with a book, absorbed in her reading.

He felt extremely foolish. And awkward. And with each passing second, as the woman continued to be oblivious to his presence, his awkwardness grew worse. How on earth was he supposed to introduce himself to the Slayer when she wasn’t even looking at him?

He tried to clear his throat, but it came out more like a choking cough.

The woman on the floor looked up, giving Rumplestiltskin his first look at her face. His breath caught.

She was beautiful.

The grainy photograph he’d been given by the Watchers had in no way prepared him for the reality of her. Chestnut waves flowed over her shoulders. Bright blue eyes peered up at him from beneath long lashes. Her skin was smooth and touchable.

She smiled at him, and he thought his heart might stop.

“Hello!” She set the book down on the floor, still open to hold her place, and jumped to her feet. “Sorry about that! I didn’t hear you come in.”

The lovely lilt of her accent took him by surprise. He recalled that she’d been born in Australia, but according to her file, she’d lived in Maine for most of her life. He found her voice sweet and utterly disarming.

“Th-that’s all right,” Rumplestiltskin stammered.

She tilted her head. “Are you here about self-defense classes?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “What?”

She smiled again. “Self-defense classes.  I can show you a schedule of our offerings, if you’d like.”

“No, I—no, that’s not why I’m here. I can’t—I couldn’t anyway—”

The Slayer’s eyebrows knit together in mild confusion.

Rumplestiltskin gestured to his leg, then mentally cursed himself. He’d only just met her, this beautiful creature, the Slayer, and what does he do first? Point out his disability. Yes, that would impress her.

The Slayer just smiled. “That’s no matter. A physical limitation doesn’t have to stop you from learning to protect yourself. There’s a basic self-defense for beginners class starting up this week if you’re interested. Here, I have the schedule.” She reached for a binder on the desk and began flipping through it.

“No. I didn’t—that’s not what I’m here for,” Rumplestiltskin said again, wishing a hole would open up beneath him and swallow him up.

The Slayer stopped flipping pages and looked up at him. “Oh. I’m sorry. What can I help you with, sir?”

All of Rumplestiltskin’s practiced words had flown right out of his head. “I’m—I came here—I—“

The Slayer smiled.

“I’m your Watcher,” Rumplestiltskin said. “My name is… Mr. Gold.”

Understanding dawned in the Slayer’s eyes. “You’re… my Watcher?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded once.

She looked at him now, really looked at him, taking in everything about him, from his simple cane to his tweed suit. Rumplestiltskin felt small and unimpressive under her gaze, but he tried to stand tall and make a good impression. Her eyes came back to his.

“You don’t seem much like Gaston.”

Rumplestiltskin winced at the comparison. Gaston Gray had been a confident young man, a skilled fighter, and a highly respected Watcher. No, Rumplestiltskin didn’t have much in common with Gaston.

“I suppose you’re right,” he murmured.

The Slayer came around to the front of the desk, still regarding Rumplestiltskin intently. “I thought the Watchers’ Council weren’t going to send me another Watcher.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked in surprise. “They didn’t tell you I was coming?”

She shook her head. “The last conversation I had with them, they informed me that a twenty-five-year-old Slayer was not worth further investment. That I’d already lived far longer than any Slayer could be expected to survive. That my time was too limited. And that, after Gaston…” she hesitated, “I was too much of a risk.”

Rumplestiltskin’s mouth was dry. He shouldn’t be surprised. It was all too like the Watchers to send him off to meet the Slayer without even giving her a warning of his arrival.

But he didn’t know how to explain to her why they’d changed their minds. He didn’t know how to tell her he was as little valued as she was.

The Slayer smiled suddenly. “Mr. Gold, was it? I think we’re going to get along.”

She held out her hand.

Rumplestiltskin took it.

A thrill went through him at the touch of her hand, which he tried to suppress. She was a beautiful, strong, young woman, and he was… what he was. A coward nearly twice her age.

Who was supposed to be her teacher.

“I’m sure we will, dearie,” he said.

He turned to leave.

“Mr. Gold?”

Rumplestiltskin stopped and looked back at her.

“Do you have a first name? I’d rather not be so formal, if it’s all right with you.”

Her warm smile sent his heart thumping wildly again. “It’s Rumplestiltskin,” he said without thinking.

An instant later, he wanted to kick himself. Rum, he was supposed to tell her his name was Rum.

But the Slayer only beamed. “That’s a wonderful name,” she said. “So unique. I love it.”

Something loosened in Rumplestiltskin’s chest.

“You can call me Belle,” the Slayer said.

He nodded.

Belle.

* * *

Through the front window, Belle watched Rumplestiltskin drive away.

Well. This was an interesting development.

The last time she’d spoken to the Watcher’s Council, they’d been quite clear about their intentions. They were not interested in giving her any more support.

They’d rather let her die and start fresh with a new Slayer.

Well, Belle didn’t have any intention of lying down and letting herself be killed. But if the Watchers wanted to wash their hands of her, that was fine with her. Because the truth was, after ten years as the Slayer, there was very little she could learn from the likes of Gaston Gray. She’d been living and breathing the Slayer’s life since she was fifteen, and while she wasn’t fool enough to think she had nothing left to learn, it was blatantly obvious that she was better equipped at slaying vampires than Gaston ever would be. Or ever would have been, had he lived.

Gaston was an arrogant bastard. Getting involved with him as more than her Watcher had been Belle’s second biggest mistake.

Her biggest mistake was letting him get killed.

Belle would hold the guilt over his death in her heart forever, but she had to admit that not being under his watchful eye night and day was… nice.

She had come to terms with the idea that she would no longer be under the thumb of a Watcher, and had even begun to look forward to being left to her own devices, when Rumplestiltskin Gold walked through her door and took her completely by surprise. She didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any more different from Gaston. Rumplestiltskin was an unimposing man, uncertain and shy. Where Gaston was a braggart, Rumplestiltskin seemed humble. Where Gaston was condescending, Rumplestiltskin was polite. Where Gaston was unsympathetic, Rumplestiltskin seemed kind.

He didn’t have Gaston’s rugged good looks, but there was something undeniably attractive about him. Her instincts told her that he was someone who would never hurt her.

If she had to be stuck with a Watcher, she thought Rumplestiltskin might be quite nice to have around.

Belle pulled out her phone and dialed the one and only friend she had. One of only two people she’d ever told her secret identity.

“Granny’s Diner,” Ruby said.

“Ruby,” Belle said, “you won’t believe what just happened. I have a new Watcher.”

“What!?”

“I’m coming over. I’ll tell you over fries.”

* * *

Storybrooke was a small town, which meant it took Rumplestiltskin only a few minutes to get from the martial arts center to his new apartment. Baelfire was sitting on the floor, rummaging through one of the many cardboard boxes, when Rumplestiltskin walked in.

A pang of guilt hit Rumplestiltskin once again for uprooting the boy as he had. Any move was hard on a child, but moving nearly halfway around the world was far worse. Rumplestiltskin knew Baelfire would miss his friends in London terribly, and he hated knowing that Bae would most likely be celebrating his fourteenth birthday with no one but his old papa.

But melancholy would do neither of them any good. Rumplestiltskin brushed these thoughts aside. “Not much point in unpacking until we get some furniture in here.” His tone was deliberately light.

Baelfire looked up. “You’re back! How did it go?”

“It was fine.” Rumplestiltskin walked to the one piece of furniture in the room, a wooden kitchen chair left by the previous tenants. He sat, taking the pressure off his aching ankle. “What are you looking for?”

Bae glanced down at the box. “Oh. I thought I’d take a shower, but I can’t find the shampoo or soap.”

Rumplestiltskin gestured with his cane. “The box right there, Bae. The one marked ‘bath.’”

Baelfire barely looked at the box in question. “What about the Slayer, papa? What is she like?”

Rumplestiltskin tensed in spite of himself. “It’s just business, Bae. Why so interested?”

Baelfire looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “Papa. She’s the Slayer. The Chosen One.”

His son, always so taken by stories of glory and bravery. The thought of Bae anywhere near vampires or Slayers made Rumplestiltskin shudder. “I don’t want you involved in all of that. This business, it’s not safe.”

His son sighed. “I know, papa. I’m not going to get involved. I just want to know about her.”

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. “She’s—“

Amazing. Wonderful. Beautiful.

“—very kind, I think. Friendly. We didn’t speak much, but… I think it will be nice to work with her.”

“Can I meet her?”

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows. “Bae.”

“I’m not getting involved!  It’s just—she’s the only person we know in town.”

Guilt hit Rumplestiltskin again. “Oh, son. You’ll make friends soon enough.” He didn’t know who he was trying to convince more, Bae or himself.

“I know, but—“ Baelfire fidgeted with his sleeve, “well, if you want me to be safe, what better friend could I have than the Slayer?”

“Slayers don’t have friends, Bae.” Rumplestiltskin worked to keep the pleading out of his voice, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Friends are a weakness. They become targets for their enemies. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Baelfire sighed.

Rumplestiltskin’s heart melted. “Don’t worry, Bae. I know this is hard, but we’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Bae smiled, but Rumplestiltskin could tell it was a front. “You’re right, papa. Forget I said anything.”

Rumplestiltskin should have felt better about winning the argument. He didn’t. He just felt empty.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said with false cheer. “Why don’t you go take that shower, and then we can go out for dinner. I saw a nice little diner on the way home. Granny’s, I think it was called.”

* * *

“Bring him in.”

Two fledgling vampires dragged a man into the black and white office. He was covered in dirt and wearing many layers of clothing. The vampires dropped him on the floor. He looked up at the woman before him, smiling insolently.

“Madam Mayor.” His tone made it clear that the title was anything but respectful. “I had no idea you wanted to see me. You could have simply asked, you know.”

Regina, mayor and vampire queen of Storybrooke, stepped towards him, smiling coldly. “So this is the great Dark One I’ve heard so much about. I must admit, Zoso, you’re not what I expected.”

Zoso sat back on his heels. “I’m not what anyone expects.”

“Indeed.” Her lips curved in a smile. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Zoso stood. At full height, he towered over the queen, even with her stiletto heels. “You’ve heard whispers that the Dark One knows certain secrets. That death can be cheated. That a certain young man who met, shall we say, a rather unfortunate end, could be brought back to this world.”

Regina stepped closer. “And is it true?”

Zoso smirked. “Oh, it’s true. But do you understand the deal you want to make?”

“I don’t care.” The words came quickly. “Whatever your price, I’ll pay it. Just bring him back to me.”

Zoso grinned broadly and gave a mocking bow. “Then, my dear,” he declared, “you and I are in business.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“His name is _what_?”

“Rumplestiltskin,” Belle repeated. “Rumplestiltskin Gold.”

“Wow.” Ruby Lucas set down her order pad on the counter in front of her. “Did his parents hate him or something?”

Belle fingered the straw in her iced tea. “I don’t know. I kind of like it.”

“And what the hell is he doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

Ruby all but growled. “I mean, one second the Watchers are ready to abandon you to the vamps, the next this guy turns up on your doorstep. What’s his deal?”

Belle frowned. “I don’t know. He’s not like any Watcher I’ve met before.”

“So not a conceited meathead like Gaston.”

“No.” Belle thought of Rumplestiltskin, standing shyly in her dojo, fiddling with his cane. “Not at all like Gaston.”

“What is he like, then?”

“Well, I only spoke to him for a few minutes, but... he seemed sweet. Kind.”

Ruby gave Belle a suspicious look. “Sweet?”

“Yes, actually. He was very... polite. You know, I don’t think he knows anyone in Storybrooke. Maybe I should offer to show him around.”

Ruby looked at Belle for a moment. Then she came around the counter and sat down on the stool next to her.

“What are you doing?” Belle asked in confusion. She knew at least two tables were waiting for their orders.

“We need to talk.”

“Talk?”

“You cannot fall for this guy.”

Belle’s nearly fell off her stool. “What? Ruby, I’ve barely met him.”

“But I know that look in your eyes. Belle, I saw what happened with Gaston.”

“That’s not–”

“I don’t want to watch it happen again. It’s not a good idea to get involved with your Watcher.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! I’ve only spoken to the man once!”

Ruby gave Belle a look.

“I’m not getting involved with anyone. I’m just saying he seemed nice.”

“And you want to take him out.”

“Yes – no!” Belle rubbed her forehead. “I’m just being polite. He moved all the way here because of me. It would be rude not to help him learn his way around.”

Ruby leaned closer. “Belle. Whatever he came here for, it’s not because of you. He’s here for the Watchers and their own private agenda. I promise you that.”

Belle sighed and looked at her drink. “I know.”

“So you’re not going to do anything with him?”

“Ruby! It’s a ridiculous idea. I don’t even know the man.”

Ruby eyed her speculatively. “Just be careful, Belle. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Of course I will.”

“Ruby!” Mrs. Lucas’s voice rang out from the kitchen, and Ruby jumped up guiltily. “What are you doing? These burgers aren’t going to serve themselves!”

“I’m coming, Granny.” With one last look at Belle, Ruby stood and picked up her order pad. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told her friend.

Belle waved her off. “Go. Feed the masses.”

As soon as Ruby walked away, Belle’s thoughts turned back to Rumplestiltskin. Of course she wasn’t going to fall for him. He was her Watcher. They needed to work together. He was here to do a job, and so was she.

And if he had kind, brown eyes that seemed to look right into her, a Scottish brogue that made her melt, and a softness to his manner that she’d never seen in a man before, well, there was no reason she should notice.

Besides, no one would want to get involved with a woman whose days were numbered.

Belle sighed and pushed away from the counter. “I’ll be right back, Ruby,” she called to her friend and headed for the ladies’ room.

* * *

  
As Rumplestiltskin pushed open the diner door, he couldn’t help but notice the large wooden cross affixed to the front. That was odd, but he wouldn’t complain. Any extra protection from vampires was welcome.

A tall waitress smiled as he and Baelfire walked in. “Hi there,” she said. “Have a seat anywhere. I’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” Rumplestiltskin said softly.

He chose a booth near the back, sittting so that he could see the windows and door. He knew he was being paranoid, but... he wanted to have an eye on what was coming. Baelfire slid in across from him.

“This place looks nice,” Bae said.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

The waitress sidled up, flashing a broad smile at both of them and handing them a couple of menus. “Can I get you two something to drink?”

“Do you have tea?”

“Iced or hot?”

“Hot, please.”

“And you?”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Bae said. “And what’s the best thing on the menu?”

The waitress grinned. “Granny makes a mean French toast.”

Baelfire smiled back at her. “I’ll have that, then.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at his handsome son and wondered how he got to be so charming.

“And are you ready to order, sir?”

Rumplestiltskin looked down. “No, I– I’ll need a minute.”

“No problem.” The waitress smiled again, displaying her perfect white teeth. “I’ll come back.”

Bae watched her leave, then turned to Rumplestiltskin. “She’s pretty.”

“Yes, she is.” Rumplestiltskin opened his menu.

“She’s not wearing a wedding ring.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up. “I think she’s a bit old for you, lad.”

Bae gave him a long-suffering look. “Not for me, papa. For you.”

Rumplestiltskin coughed and looked around, making sure the waitress hadn’t overheard. “Bae!”

“Well, why not? It’s been years since mum left. It wouldn’t hurt you to ask a woman out some time.”

The Slayer’s face flitted through Rumplestiltskin’s mind.

“I cannot be having this conversation,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, hiding his face in his menu.

Baelfire picked up a fork on the table and began fiddling with it. “All I’m saying is you could have ordered the French toast.”

* * *

  
Belle emerged from the restroom and retook her seat at the counter to pick at her fries. A minute later, Ruby returned and began filling a glass at the soda fountain.

“So when are you seeing this Watcher again?”

“I don’t know,” Belle realized. “Gaston used to just show up when he wanted to train.” Or wanted something else, Belle added mentally, and tried not to cringe.

Ruby made a sound of disgust. “I’ll never understand why you went out with that guy.”

She’d gone out with Gaston because it had been easy. She’d tried to date other guys. It hadn’t worked. She couldn’t explain to them why she never had time. Couldn’t tell them that she spent her free time training and her nights killing vampires. And then, of course, as her Watcher, Gaston was always there, jealously guarding her time, and she had no explanation for that, either.

Eventually, they all left, and after a while, Belle got tired of having her heart broken. She tried being alone, but that was miserable, too. Gaston was an easy answer. He already knew her secret. He didn’t expect things from her that she couldn’t give. And if she wasn’t able to love him, well, maybe that was for the best.

Maybe Slayers weren’t meant to love.

“So you’re just going to wait around for this Rumple-whatsis to turn up again?”

“I’m sure I’ll see him again soon.”

“Pretty inconsiderate of him not to let you know how to get in touch with him.”

Belle remembered the way Rumplestiltskin had blushed and stammered. She suspected the oversight was a product of nerves rather than lack of consideration, but she didn’t think her friend would believe her. “Ruby,” she said, “I know how you feel about the Watchers, but don’t you think you should meet this one before condemning him?”

“Oh, you think this one will deign to speak to me?”

Belle sighed. “I have to work with him, Ruby. It’s going to be hard if you and he hate each other.”

Ruby looked away. “That Gaston did not treat you right, Belle. Even before he was your boyfriend. He had no business making so many demands of you.”

“I know.” Belle sighed again. “I’ll make you a promise, Ruby. The new Watcher, if he’s mean, if he’s cruel – I won’t work with him. I’ll cut him out of my life.”

That was the benefit of having ten years of slaying experience. She wasn’t dependent on anyone.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” Ruby said.

* * *

  
“Papa.”

“Yes, Bae?”

“Papa.”

“What is it, son?”

“Papa.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up from his menu in annoyance – and snorted with laughter.

Bae had straws stuck in both nostrils, cheeks puffed out, eyes crossed.

“Your face is going to stick that way, you know,” Rumplestiltskin told him halfheartedly, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, I’m very concerned about it,” Bae said in mock seriousness. “Very troubling indeed.”

Rumplestiltskin’s response was to pick up the spoon in front of him and stick it on his nose. He then stuck out his tongue at his son.

Bae laughed.

“You two are adorable,” said a voice.

Rumplestiltskin looked up sharply. The waitress had returned. She grinned as she put their drinks down in front of them.

Quickly, Rumplestiltskin pulled the spoon from his face and set it down on the table.

“I hope you’re not planning to drink from those straws now,” she added with a wink, pulling another straw from her apron and dropping it on the table.

Rumplestiltskin wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor with embarrassment – but then something caught his eye.

A woman at the counter with her back to them.

A woman with chestnut curls cascading down her back.

No.

The Slayer was here, and so was Baelfire. And as much as his heart starting thumping wildly at the sight of her –

He did not want them to meet.

Dimly, he heard Bae ask the waitress, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ruby.”

“My name’s Baelfire. This is my papa. His name’s Rumplestiltskin.”

Rumplestiltskin turned sharply to his son, afraid the Slayer would overhear, the words, “Hush, Bae,” on his lips, but he didn’t get them out.

The waitress dropped her order pad. “Rumplestiltskin!?” she repeated loudly.

The abruptness of the waitress’s reaction drew Rumplestiltskin’s attention only for a second. Immediately, he looked back at the woman at the counter.

She turned around.

* * *

  
Belle was dropping a tip for Ruby on the table when she heard her friend say, “Rumplestiltskin?” behind her.

Belle frowned. Ruby knew better than to talk about Slayer business – who could she be saying that name to?

She turned around, and her jaw dropped.

Rumplestiltskin was sitting in the booth across the way. Sitting opposite him was a teenage boy with straws stuck in his nose.

Oh.

Rumplestiltskin had a son.

She didn’t know why that was so shocking, but it was. She thought of the Watchers as a group of stodgy English bachelors. Of course there was no reason Watchers couldn’t have children, but – it had never occurred to her that they might.

Rumplestiltskin was full of surprises.

She smiled, genuinely happy to see him, and hopped down from her stool. “Rumplestiltskin!”

That was when she noticed the expression on his face. He looked horrified.

No. Terrified.

Belle paused uncertainly next to the booth. “It’s nice to see you again so soon,” she offered.

“Oh. Yes. I mean, yes, of course,” Rumplestiltskin looked like a trapped animal, and Belle felt a pang of dismay. Of course there was no reason he should want her interrupting his time with his child, but Belle had hoped –

Nothing. She had hoped nothing.

Ruby looked about as awkward as Belle felt. “Um, are you ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“Oh. Um...”

“The burgers are fabulous here,” Belle said with a sheepish smile.

Rumplestiltskin met her eyes, and something changed in his expression.  His eyes grew softer. Belle couldn’t explain it, but the way he looked at her made her want to shiver.

“Ruby always recommends the breakfast food, but I love Granny’s hamburgers the best.” God, why was she still talking? Belle shut her mouth.

“I’ll have that,” Rumplestiltskin said quickly.

“I’ll get you Belle’s usual, then, shall I?” Ruby said. Belle glanced at her friend. Ruby gave Belle a meaningful look, both eyebrows raised, before tucking the order pad into her apron and slipping away.

Belle looked back at the table. The boy had taken the straws out of his nose and was regarding her speculatively. Rumplestiltskin gave her a smile.

“Is this your son?” Belle asked.

Immediately she wished she hadn’t, because Rumplestiltskin’s entire body tensed. The hunted, terrified look returned.

“I – he –”

“I’m his son,” the boy said. “My name’s Baelfire.”

“Bae.” The reprimand was barely a whisper.

“Are you –” Baelfire looked around and lowered his voice. “Are you the Slayer?”

“How could you guess?”

Rumplestiltskin’s hands, which had been folding and unfolding his napkin, began to shake, and suddenly Belle understood. For some reason, he was afraid of his son learning too much about her.

She didn’t know why, but she could respect it.

“Wow,” the boy said. “What is it like?”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Belle said noncommitally, searching for another topic of conversation. “How long have you been in town?”

“We just flew in today.”

Belle blinked in surprise. “You must be exhausted.”

Baelfire grinned. “Yeah.”

“Will you be going to school here?”

The boy made a face. “I start tomorrow. I don’t know how the Watchers got it set up that fast.”

Belle laughed. “Poor thing. Storybrooke High?”

Baelfire nodded.

“That’s where I went. Principal Nolan is a little strict, but he’s fair, too. ”

Rumplestiltskin seemed to be untensing at this turn of conversation. Belle took that as a sign that she’d been right to avoid the Slayer subject.

“You know what the principal is like? Did you get in trouble a lot?”

Perceptive boy. Belle realized how close she was skirting to dangerous topics. She decided a quick exit would be best.  “Once or twice. I’m sorry, I have to get going. It was really nice to meet you, Baelfire.” She held out her hand, and the boy took it.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Can we talk again sometime?” He looked hopefully up at her.

“Baelfire.” Rumplestitskin’s voice was louder this time, but Baelfire didn’t look away from Belle.

“That’s up to your father, I’d say.” She gave him a smile, her heart aching a bit at the disappointment in his eyes. Brushing it aside, Belle turned to Rumplestiltskin. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Once again, Rumplestiltskin looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He nodded once and rose, setting his napkin down on the table and taking his cane.

* * *

  
Rumplestiltskin followed the Slayer to the front of the diner, gratitude filling his chest. He didn’t know how Belle knew he didn’t want Bae to know about Slaying, but somehow she had, and she’d avoided the topic while still treating Baelfire with kindness and friendliness. She’d left him in control of whether Bae saw her again or not.

And when she’d smiled at them, it was like sunlight shone over the whole diner.

But he couldn’t think like that. This was business. That was all. Beautiful young women did not fall in love with old cowards.

Belle turned to look at him, a small smile on her lips.

“The sun’s going down, so I’m going out to patrol,” she said. “Would you like to join me later?”

Rumplestiltskin froze, paralyzed.

_Oh, god._

Patrolling. She was going out, right now, to face down vampires.

And she was asking him to come.

He was a Watcher. Of course he would be expected to go on patrol with the Slayer. This was the front lines of the battle. There was no way to avoid the vampires. _Foolish old coward, what did you expect?_

He would have to face the vampires.

He began to shake.

Belle’s forehead creased in concern. She put a hand on his arm.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said. “Are you all right?”

Rumplestiltskin looked up into lovely blue eyes, which did nothing to help with the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

This was his job now.

Somehow, he managed to get his limbs under control. He opened his eyes and forced himself to smile. “I’m fine,” he said, embarrassed when his voice cracked. “I’ll have to take Bae home, first, of course.”

“Of course,” Belle said immediately. “There’s no hurry. Take your time. Enjoy your meal. I’ll be out by the cemetery tonight. Watching one of the newer graves. Suspicious circumstances, you know.”

That information did nothing for his nerves.

Belle’s mouth twitched. “Rumplestiltskin – are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said again. “I’m fine.”

Belle still looked concerned, but she withdrew her hand. “Well,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

* * *

  
Over his shoulder, Baelfire watched his father talk to the Slayer. Funny that his papa never mentioned how beautiful she was. And very interesting that he ordered the hamburger.

Well. This was something he could work with.

Baelfire had wanted to see his papa dating again for ages. He needed someone to make him happy. Someone to keep his thoughts from going over and over whatever terrible fears made him constantly cowed. And the Slayer couldn’t be any more perfect. If his father were dating the Slayer, he couldn’t possibly keep Bae from getting to know her.

Bae turned back to the table and sipped his Coke. This was going to take some planning.


	3. Chapter 3

“Your price is the Slayer’s new Watcher?” The mayor folded her arms over her chest. “What a ridiculous request.”

Zoso raised his eyebrows. “Is that so, your majesty?”

“Absolutely.”

Zoso smirked. “Am I to assume that the vampire queen of Storybrooke is frightened of the Slayer?”

“Assume whatever you like. I haven’t got this far by poking irritable Slayers. Surely there is something more practical I can do for you.”

“ **No**.” There was power in the Dark One’s voice that hadn’t been there before. Power that made Regina look twice. “Do not forget who you are dealing with, little queen. There will be no negotiating. The Watcher is my price, and you will do as I say.”

“Oh, will I?”

“You will.” The Dark One stepped closer to her until there was barely an inch between them. “Or your stable boy can rot in whatever hell dimension he’s landed in. It’s your call, little queen.”

The two stared each other down. It was Regina who blinked first. “Very well,” she said, turning away with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll have your Watcher.”

“On my terms. We’ll do this my way, madame mayor, or the deal is off.”

“Yes, yes. On your terms.”

* * *

“All right, Bae.” Rumplestiltskin stood by the door, fiddling with the wooden cross he held. “I’m sorry to leave you like this, but you’ll be all right, won’t you? Keep the windows and doors closed, and don’t invite anyone inside.”

“Believe it or not, papa, I do remember how to defend against a vampire attack.”

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. “Just stay inside and don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Wait a second!”

Rumplestiltskin paused.

“You’re not going out like that, are you?”

Rumplestiltskin looked down at himself. “What? Why?”

Bae stepped forward and plucked at his father’s jacket. “Well, I’m pretty sure tweed has been out of style for about a hundred years.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t hide his surprise. “If you’re looking to make me fashionable, you’re going to need an act of magic, I think.”

“You’re going to be spending time with the Slayer. You want to impress her, don’t you?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at his son with dawning suspicion. “What kind of ideas are forming in that head of yours?”

Baelfire looked all too innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, papa. Just because you’ll be out with a pretty girl --”

“It’s business, Bae. You know that.”

“Of course it is. But, still, you don’t want her to think you’re some old fogey.”

“I don’t think that can be helped,” Rumplestiltskin said wryly, but he hesitated. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try to make a good impression...

A quick glance at the box that held his clothes squashed that idea. Everything in there would need to be pressed.

Baelfire followed his gaze and seemed to realize the problem. “Well, we can at least do this.” He tugged off Rumplestiltskin’s jacket, then started loosening his tie.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re overdressed for what you’re going to do.”

“But this is what I wear everywhere.”

Baelfire rolled his eyes. “I know.”

Tie removed, Baelfire unbuttoned the top two buttons and rolled up Rumplestiltskin’s sleeves. “Wait,” he said, fussing with his hair.

“Enough, Bae. I’m not walking down a catwalk.”

“I sure hope not.” Bae stepped backward. “You’ll do.”

Rumplestiltskin thought about checking his appearance in the mirror, but decided against it. Better not to encourage his son.

“Stay inside,” he warned. “Stay safe.”

As he closed the door behind him, Baelfire said, “Good luck!”

* * *

After making her rounds of the cemetery and encountering no action, Belle found a perch near the the freshest grave and took her book out. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts on the page. Her mind was a jumble, and no matter what she did, her thoughts came wandering back to the new Watcher and his son.

Why had she invited Rumplestiltskin on patrol? Just a few short hours ago, she’d been glad to have her independence again. The last thing she needed was a Watcher at her back, criticizing her form, her technique, her clothing... And yet, the very first chance she’d had, she asked the new Watcher to join her.

Ruby would be so disappointed.

She wanted to know what she was in for, and it wouldn’t do any good to put it off. That was what she told herself. Everything was going to change, for better or worse, and the sooner she understood the man who had entered her life, the better.

She heard him approaching and looked up.

He looked different. Good different. His tweed suit was cute, but now he looked... sexy. His hair was tousled. Her eyes were drawn to the triangle of skin exposed by the open buttons at his collar.

She bit her lip.

His posture was tense, at odds with his relaxed attire. His left hand gripped a wooden cross so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Belle suddenly felt guilty for checking him out when he was so obviously uncomfortable.

* * *

He found her sitting on a headstone, reading a book. When she saw him, her eyes darkened. She looked him up and down.

Rumplestiltskin’s fingers curled around the handle of his cane. He didn’t know what that look meant, but he hoped it was a good thing.

She grinned.

“Rumplestiltskin!” She closed her book and hopped down as he approached.

Rumplestiltskin smiled back, some of his fear melting away in her presence. Part of it was the knowledge that the Slayer was here, and she could handle nearly anything the vampires could send at them. Part of it was the glorious smile she bestowed upon him that made him almost forget where he was and what he was doing.

“I’m glad you came.”

“It’s my job.”

They stood there looking at each other in awkward silence.

Belle gestured to a small bench nearby. “Shall we sit? I can see the grave from over here.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, grateful for the opportunity to take pressure off his leg. He followed her to the bench and sat beside her. She was so close that her leg was pressed against his. He tried not to notice.

“Your son is wonderful.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Yes, he is. He’s the best thing in my life.” The only good thing in my life.

The Slayer – Belle – looked wistful. “You’re lucky to have him.”

Rumplestiltskin gripped his cross tighter. “Yes, I am.”

“Is there...a wife, too?” Her expression was carefully friendly.

He fiddled with the handle of his cane. “There was. She left.”

Belle’s lips pursed in a soft O. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard. For both of you.”

Rumplestiltskin focused his gaze on a patch of weeds near Belle’s foot. “It’s Bae I feel for. A boy shouldn’t have to grow up without his mother. But I do my best to take care of him.”

“And who takes care of you?”

Rumplestiltskin looked up at her, too startled to answer. Nobody ever worried about him.

Belle looked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“That’s all right.” Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry. “We take care of each other, I suppose.”

Another pause. Rumplestiltskin looked back at that little clump of weeds. Surely there was some Watcher duty he ought to be doing. Was the Slayer sitting there wondering at his uselessness?

“Er – the grave.” Rumplestiltskin nodded at it. “You said, ‘suspicious circumstances.’ What did you mean?”

Something darkened in the Slayer’s eyes. “Vampire attack.”  She looked at her hands. “Neck torn open, significant blood loss, according to the coroner’s report. Gaston had a program on his laptop to break into the coroner’s files; I figured out how to use it once he was gone.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. He knew the program.

“So we wait to see if she rises.” Belle gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin wished he hadn’t brought the subject up. Her entire demeanor had changed, like a light had gone out inside her.

He said nothing.

“Her name was May Fisher,” Belle said presently. “She was forty-one years old. She had a husband and two children. Gaston would never tell me that kind of information, even when I asked. Now I can see it for myself.”

And Rumplestiltskin understood why she was upset.

He didn’t think before he moved. If he had, he’d never have had the courage to  do it. But his hand reached out of its own accord and touched hers.

Surprised blue eyes looked up at him.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered.

“Isn’t it?” To Rumplestiltskin’s alarm, moisture was forming in those blue eyes, though the rest of her face remained impassive. “I’m the Slayer, and I didn’t save her. All I can do is put her to rest if she rises now.”

“You’re only one person.” He pressed his fingers into hers. “You can’t stop every vampire attack. No one person should have that kind of pressure on them.”

“No, they shouldn’t, should they?” For a moment, Rumplestiltskin thought that the tears would fall, but Belle blinked them back. “You’re not much like Gaston.”

Rumplestiltskin pulled his hand back.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Belle frowned. “No,” she said. “You don’t understand. What I mean is, I’m glad you’re not like Gaston.”

She reached out and took his hand again.

It took Rumplestiltskin a moment to realize what Belle had just said. She liked him the way he was. She didn’t want him to be more like the model Watcher that had come before him. And she had reached out to touch him of her own volition.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything.

“I can run that program for you from now on,” was what came out. “That is, if you want me to.”

Belle laughed quietly. “You know, I think that’s probably a good idea. There are some things I’d rather not know.”

Before Rumplestiltskin could reply, Belle looked away, suddenly alert. “Here we go,” she muttered, jumping to her feet and pulling a stake from her belt.

Rumplestiltskin fumbled for his cane and stood as quickly as he could, clutching his cross. He was trembling from head to foot. Was May Fisher about to rise from the dead? He stared at the grave.

And was completely off guard when a gang of vampires in strange black uniforms jumped out of the shadows.

Belle was not.

She moved instantly, her body a sleek weapon. She staked the vampire closest to her in seconds, its body collapsing into ashes. Her body twisted and turned, keeping the vampires at bay with seeming ease. Another vampire disintegrated into dust.

But Rumplestiltskin’s mind had shut down. All he saw was the vampires.

_The screams pierced the darkness behind his closed eyes. He hunched himself smaller in the tight space and pressed his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to block the sounds. The vampires laughed and taunted their prey. Rumplestiltskin tried not to hear the words, but his imagination filled in the blanks._

He should help. The Slayer was outnumbered. He should be doing something to help her, not standing there like a rock, but he couldn’t make his limbs move. His hand was shaking so badly that he dropped his cane.

The Slayer landed home another blow, and another vamp disappeared.

Rumplestiltskin managed to take one small step backward, and backed into something.

No. Not something. Someone.

Granite arms wrapped around his body, holding him in place. Long hair streaked with dirt fell into his vision. He turned his head to see a middle aged-vampire leering at him.

“You look delicious,” she hissed.

May Fisher had risen after all.

One hand reached up and grasped his chin, wrenching it to the side and baring his neck. He needed to fight. He needed to move. He had a cross. God help him, he had to do something.

_Light poured suddenly into his little cupboard. A cruel laugh. “Hey, look what I found! This must be the pantry, someone’s locked away food in here!”_

_Rough hands pulled him from his hiding place._

_“Oh, Watcher, did you really think you could hide from us?”_

_“Show him what a bad idea that was.”_

“Rumplestiltskin!”

He heard the Slayer’s voice, felt the vampire that held him, but he couldn’t see them. His mind was locked in the past.

_He was on the floor, screaming in pain as the vampire crushed his ankle, slowly. “Do you want to live, Watcher? Beg for your life. I want to hear you beg.”_

_“Please,” Rumplestiltskin wheezed. “Please. I want to live.”_

_The vampire laughed and pressed harder on his ankle. He shrieked again._

_“Please... I have a son...”_

_“Oh, a son?” the vampire mocked. “Well, why didn’t you say so? This Watcher has a son!”_

_“How very special!”_

The hand at his chin gripped harder. Fight. He needed to fight.

_“ **Let him go.** ” _

_The pressure on his ankle disappeared immediately. “You can’t be serious!”_

_Rumplestiltskin saw only a glimpse of a face, tinted greenish-grey beneath a dark cowl. “ **Not this one. This one lives.** ”_

Sharp teeth touched his neck.

Suddenly, where the vampire had been, there was a burst of air and dust, and then nothing.

“Rumplestiltskin? Rumplestiltskin!”

The Slayer. The battle was over. She had saved him.

The scene from the past vanished. Rumplestiltskin crumpled to the ground.

“Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.”

He was shaking all over, and he couldn’t stop. His body curled in on itself. He looked up to see the Slayer standing over him, watching, and had to look away in shame. So there it was. There was no hiding it anymore. She would know what a horrible coward he was.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes.

And warm arms enveloped him.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” The Slayer – Belle – drew him close, cradling him in her lap. “They’re gone. They’re all gone, and I’m here. They’re not going to hurt you. I won’t let them touch you. Not ever again. Do you hear me? I’ve got you now.”

Rumplestiltskin sobbed and buried his head against her chest.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay.” She stroked his hair and held him tighter as his tremors grew worse. “You’re mine now, and nothing is going to touch you.” **  
**  



	4. Chapter 4

Regina scowled at the image of Watcher and Slayer holding each other and dispelled the magical spell on the mirror with a muttered Latin phrase and a wave of her hand. “So this is the Watcher you’re so determined to have? I must say, I think you’ve picked a really slow horse this time.”

“I’m not interested in what you think. The attack was acceptable. Wait for my orders. I’ll let you know when to do it again.”

 

* * *

 

 

She hadn’t known. If she’d known, she never would have asked him to come on patrol.

Belle pressed her cheek against Rumplestiltskin's hair and held him as his body quaked, murmuring reassurances. He was a vampire victim. There was no other explanation for the way he'd frozen and then collapsed to the ground, violent tremors rocking his body. She hadn't known, but now that she knew, she was never going to let anyone hurt him again.

She pulled him closer in her lap. He seemed so fragile in her arms. His fingers clutched at her shoulders as he cried. Belle stroked his back, offering as much comfort as she could. Guiltily, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of him in her arms.

She had no right to claim him as her own, but she did it anyway. He was hers now.

Slowly, slowly, his shaking subsided. Belle continued to stroke his back, his hair, waiting for his breathing to become even.

Rumplestiltskin looked up at her, and horror crossed his face. He jerked backward, out of her embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, now.” Belle reached out and took both his hands in hers. “No apologies. Not for this.”

Rumplestiltskin looked down at their joined hands, then back up at her face, as though he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Belle put as much compassion into her words as she could. “You’ve been attacked by vampires before.”

Rumplestiltskin looked back down at their hands. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “It was at Watcher headquarters.” His voice was so quiet Belle had to strain to make out his words. “An old grudge, they said, centuries old.” He started to tremble again.

Belle pulled him back into her arms. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay. It’s over now.”

He nodded, but didn’t pull away. He let her run her hand up and down his arm until he was calm again. It didn’t take long this time.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I’m useless.”

Belle’s heart melted. “You’re not useless,” she said, more sharply than she intended. She took a breath and spoke again, more calmly this time. “Don’t even think it. I’d rather have you than any other Watcher in the order.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded and pulled back, not meeting her eyes. Belle could see that he didn’t believe her.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “You know what they can do. You’ll take this more seriously than anyone else would.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Yes, yes I will.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as if afraid to meet her gaze straight on.

Belle brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. Rumplestiltskin shivered.

“Are you okay? Do you want to get out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded quickly. “Oh, yes. Let’s get out of here.”

Belle smiled and helped Rumplestiltskin to stand. “Okay. I’ll walk you home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin was lost.

He was lost to blue eyes that shone brighter with compassion than the stars in the sky. He was lost to comforting arms that made the rest of the world disappear into nothingness. He was lost to a smile that filled his heart with joy every time she bestowed it on him.

He was lost to Belle.

No one had ever promised to protect him before. No one besides Baelfire had ever cared what happened to him.

Oh, this was bad.

Belle was a brave, beautiful, incredible human being, and Rumplestiltskin was a weak, frightened, miserable excuse for a man. Belle shouldn’t have to be subjected to his unwanted affections. Just because she was kind and compassionate and brave didn’t mean she deserved to be saddled with the likes of him.

Rumplestiltskin glanced at Belle as they walked. She smiled, sending his heart pounding like a drum.

Oh, yes, he was lost. All he could think of was how badly he wanted to fall into her arms again, to let her touch him and tell him that he was hers. He wanted her to let him touch her, too, to run his fingers through those dark curls, to pull her close to him, to feel the curves of her body against him. He wondered, if she let him kiss her, what those soft lips would taste like.

He clenched his hand into a fist around the handle of his cane and watched the sidewalk as they walked.

This was a disaster. Because he wasn’t the fool his heart made him out to be. He knew that a woman like Belle could never care for a man like him. Her kindness had nothing to do with her feelings for him. If she had showed him compassion beyond what he ever expected, it could only mean that caring and protectiveness were in the nature of her beautiful soul. She would never love a crippled old coward with nothing to offer.

 

* * *

 

  

“This is where you live?” Belle looked up at the grey brick apartment building.

Rumplestiltskin fiddled nervously with his keys. Their new home wasn’t much to look at. “The Watchers found it for us. It’ll suit our needs, I think.”

Belle smiled. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

Belle looked at her hands. “Will I see you tomorrow? I have the day off, but we can go by the dojo to train.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked in surprise. He did need to go out, buy some groceries, and maybe start purchasing some basic furniture, but... “Yes, I can come by. Perhaps in the morning?”

“Ten o’clock?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled and nodded.

“Okay, then,” Belle said. “Tomorrow.”

“Good night, Belle.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Good night, Rumple.”

An awkward silence fell over them. Right. It was time to go inside.

Rumplestiltskin turned and unlocked the door. He hesitated in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder.

Belle was watching him. She smiled when he met her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin smiled back, heart swelling, then turned and went inside.

 

* * *

 

 

When Baelfire heard front door creak open and the clack of his father’s cane on the wood floor, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn’t a fool, even if Papa sometimes seemed to think he was. Vampires were dangerous. Deadly. He wanted them as far from himself and his father as possible.

But Papa was a Watcher, and that wasn’t an option. And if his father had to face vampires, then Baelfire wanted to help. As it was, he was a weakness. He knew it, and he hated it.

He could never quite explain that to his father. Every time he tried, Papa got this desperate, frightened look on his face, and Baelfire felt so guilty he dropped the argument.

But he knew that if his father was going to start patrolling with the Slayer, Bae would be waiting up every night until he heard him come home safe.

The click of the cane started up again, coming closer. Baelfire dropped his book, flipped off the lights, and jumped into bed.

His bedroom door creaked open.

Bae lay as still as possible, trying to breathe slowly, as if he were asleep.

He heard his father sigh.

It seemed as though Papa stood there for a long time, watching him pretend to sleep. Finally, the door clicked shut again.

Baelfire exhaled and rolled over.

He and his papa only had each other. Ever since his mum had left, they had been a team. He knew his papa would do anything to protect him, and Baelfire would do the same. They took care of each other, no matter what. And sometimes taking care of someone meant pretending you were okay when you weren’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Belle waited until she was home in her studio apartment above the dojo, with the door shut behind her, before she took out her cell phone. She was so furious she could hardly dial.

One ring.

Two.

Belle waited and seethed.

“Watchers’ HQ.” The voice sounded bored.

“I want to speak to George King.” Belle was proud of herself for keeping her tone cool and measured. “Now.”

“And who is calling?”

“The Slayer.”

A pause. “Just a moment.”

A moment turned out to be ten minutes. Belle waited, phone pressed to her ear, her rage growing with every passing minute.

Finally, the phone clicked back on, and a resigned voice said, “Miss French.”

“What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You.”

“I beg your pardon?” King had the nerve to sound affronted.

“I knew you Watchers were bastards, but I thought you at least took care of your own. Are you evil, or just sadistic?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You assigned a vampire victim to an active Slayer. Is this really that confusing? Are you so terrible to your people that you need me to _specify_ which outrage I’m talking about?”

“Ah.” Belle could practically hear his eyeroll. “I see you’ve met Mr. Gold.”

“Don’t. Don’t play superior with me.” Belle fought to keep her voice under control. “How could you send that man into the heart of vampire territory? Is cruelty some kind of game to you?”

“As charming as these accusations are, I’m afraid I have to stop you there, Miss French. Mr. Gold’s newest assignment was not my choice.”

Belle wanted to punch the man. “You expect me to believe that the head of the order had nothing to do with this?”

“I really don’t care what you believe.” A note of irritation had crept into his voice. “It wasn’t my idea to assign Mr. Gold to Storybrooke. Rumplestiltskin Gold received that placement at his own request.”

Shock made Belle mute.

“I can assure you, were it up to me, you’d never have been sent a Watcher at all. Nothing has changed since the last time you and I spoke. Still, I suppose you and Gold deserve each other. Now, are we quite finished?”

Belle opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, a click told her she’d been disconnected.

She put the phone down.

It seemed there was more to Rumplestiltskin Gold than she expected. What kind of man was so frightened of vampires that he froze completely around them, yet requested a job that meant facing them on a regular basis? And brought his family into vampire-infested territory?

He was a mystery.

Belle thought about the way it felt to hold Rumplestiltskin while he broke down, how tightly he clung to her, as if he truly believed she could make all the monsters go away.

She wished she could.

Rumplestiltskin was not like any man she had ever met. He had understood her almost without words. She hadn’t had to explain what Gaston had never been able to grasp -- the guilt she always felt for every vampire victim, the awful failure she carried in her heart every moment of every day. She hadn’t told Rumplestiltskin... but he had known. How could he see so clearly into her heart?

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her so tenderly. The last time someone had wanted to be close to her for something other than sex. He was so warm, so trusting. She wanted to hold him again. She wanted to cradle him in her arms and forget the rest of the world existed.

She wanted him to hold her back.

She wanted... she wanted.

She crossed the room to the full length mirror tacked to her closet door. Her reflection stared back at her, pale skin against dark hair. She was still pretty. She thought she was, anyway. Her body had lost the softness she’d had as a teenager, but that wasn’t so bad, was it? Gaston had said most men would find her muscles unattractive, but Ruby said Belle was a hottie. Maybe Rumplestiltskin might like to look at her.

Belle began to unbutton her shirt. Slowly, she pulled it down over her shoulders, revealing an ugly, purple and yellow bruise entirely covering her upper arm.

Slayers didn’t bruise easily. It had been a bad hit. She hadn’t been prepared for the Fisher woman to rise at that moment. It distracted her.

Two years ago, a year ago, she would have been able to dodge that blow. She was slowing down. Yes, her reflexes were still preternaturally fast, but for how long? She’d been the Slayer for ten years. There were reasons Slayers weren’t expected to live that long.

For all that she was a healthy young woman, Belle was going to die. And she knew it.

What right did she have to ask any man to love her, let alone a man like Rumplestiltskin? A man who already had so much to lose? What even made her think that he would ever want her, a vampire Slayer? How could she do anything but remind him of the vampires he clearly wanted to forget?

Belle turned away from her reflection. The bruise would be healed by tomorrow, no doubt. And there was no point in dwelling on what was never going to be.

Still, when she tucked herself into bed and lay waiting for sleep to find her, she imagined Rumplestiltskin’s arms around her again, warm and soft and safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks now and always to my wonderful beta, Aphreal42.

Rumplestilstkin gave up on the idea that he was going to sleep that night.

He’d been lying on the air mattress in his bedroom for hours. His heart was still racing, and his head was full of Belle.

He would have expected to be thinking about the vampires. This was the closest he’d been to a vampire since the attack at Watcher HQ. He should be terrified. Instead, all he could see was the way they exploded into dust, like they were nothing more than balloons waiting to be popped. And perhaps to Belle, they were.

He knew he was being ridiculous, that there were no saviors and no easy answers in this world, but some small voice in the back of his head said that maybe Belle was the miracle he’d been praying for.

At 4:30, he gave up even pretending he was going to sleep and got up. If he was going to be awake, he might as well be productive. He spent an hour unpacking pots and pans and dishes and putting them away in the cupboards as quietly as possible. Then he went out and got breakfast for two from a drive-thru. When he got back, he took out some of his clothes and an iron, laid a towel on the floor to create a makeshift ironing area, and began trying to press one of his tweed jackets.

At 6:15, he heard the alarm on Bae’s mobile go off. A couple of minutes later, the boy stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up in alarming patterns. When he saw his father, sitting awkwardly on the floor with his iron and his clothing, surrounded by empty boxes, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Good morning, son.” Rumplestiltskin put down the iron and gestured to the unopened fast food bag. “I got breakfast.”

Baelfire blinked at him. “Did you even sleep?”

“Of course I did,” Rumplestiltskin lied.

Baelfire shook his head and padded the rest of the way into the room. He sat down, grabbed the bag of food, took out two breakfast sandwiches, and tossed one to Rumplestiltskin.

“So?” he asked, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Rumplestiltskin knew what he was asking. He knew he ought to lie. Somehow, Bae had gotten ideas in his head about Belle and his father. Ideas that were impossible. If Rumplestiltskin told Bae how besotted he was, it would only get his hopes up.

But Bae was his son, and his best friend, and he didn’t want to lie.

“Oh, Bae.” He put his face in his hands. “She’s amazing.”

Bae grinned so wide Rumplestiltskin thought his face would split in two. He all but bounced in place. “Tell me everything!”

“Ugh, no.”

“Papa, why not?”

“I made an absolute fool of myself.”

“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, yes, it very well can.”

“Did she say anything about your clothes? Come on, Papa, what happened?”

Rumplestiltskin ran a hand over his face. “Baelfire, I think we need to talk.”

Bae sighed. “Oh, no.”

“I know you have some ideas about me and the Slayer, but---she and I, we’re never going to happen, you realize that.”

Bae chewed his lip. “I don’t see why not.”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to sink into the floor. “It’s not going to happen because---we’re on different playing fields. She’s young, and I’m old, and...”

“That’s all right. Girls don’t care about stuff like that. They care about the kind of person you are.”

That didn’t give him any more hope.

“Hey.” Baelfire leaned forward. “All I’m saying is, don’t give up, okay? She seemed really happy to see you last night at the diner, and... well, you never know. You’re great. I think she’d be lucky to have you.”

Rumplestiltskin’s face grew warm, and he looked at his breakfast sandwich. He knew he wasn’t worth very much, but it meant more than he could say to hear those words from Bae. Bae, who was brave and smart and so much better than he’d ever been.

He tried to keep his reply light. “You may be biased, son.”

Baelfire cocked his head and pretended to consider. “Well, I’d like you better if you let me get a smartphone.”

“Not that again.” Rumplestiltskin waved a hand at his son. “Don’t you have school to get ready for? Do you need me to drive you today?”

“Oh, god, no, Papa. Thanks, but no thanks. I can get there just fine on my own.”

* * *

Nothing like the first day at a new school. In a new country. In a little town where he didn’t know anybody.

Storybrooke High was tiny compared to Baelfire’s school in London. The grammar school -- no, _elementary_ school, that was what they said in America -- was across the street, and the middle school was next door. Kids of all ages were milling around when Baelfire stepped off the bus.

_Here goes nothing_ , Baelfire told himself, and started towards the school.

He almost walked past the boy sitting on the bench. Almost didn’t notice the huge book he seemed to be absorbed in. But the leather cover and musty, yellowish pages caught his eye. It looked just like the books his father used as a Watcher.

In curiosity, Bae looked closer at the cover. The word VAMPYR was burned into the front.

It was probably nothing. Vampires were everywhere these days. Trendy. Still, Baelfire couldn’t help the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Casually, Baelfire walked behind the boy and tried not to look as though he were reading over his shoulder. Which, of course, he was.

As soon as he saw the page, he knew this was not an innocent book. The pages were handwritten in more than one language. Baelfire knew a bit of Latin from his studies. His attention was caught by a spell at the top of the page involving candles... and human body parts.

Giving up all pretense of casualness, Baelfire leaned over the boy’s shoulder. “Where did you get that book?”

The boy jumped and closed it immediately, shoving it in his backpack. “Who are you?”

“I’m Baelfire Gold. Where did you get that book?”

“It’s a library book.”

“No, it’s not.” Baelfire lowered his voice. “That book is dangerous. It’s not something to play with.”

The boy bristled visibly. “I’m not playing with it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not trying to be mean.” Baelfire took a step closer, looking around to make sure no one else was near. “What do you know about this?”

“Nothing.” The boy hugged the backpack to his chest. “It’s nothing.”

This boy was just like him, Baelfire realized. From his earliest memory, Bae had had a secret to keep. He knew that vampires and demons, all the things that go bump in the night, were real. He knew that danger was everywhere. And he knew that he had to live with this secret burning in his chest, no matter what. No one could ever be told.

This boy was the same. He was in on the secret, and had to hide it with every fibre of his being. He had no reason to trust Baelfire. If Bae wanted his trust, he would have to show trust.

Bae followed his instincts. For the first time in his life, he spoke the words he’d never dared to say to anybody.

“My father is a Watcher.”

The boy blinked, and his eyes widened. For a moment, Baelfire thought he was going to run.

Then determination settled over his features. 

“My mother is a vampire,” he said.

* * *

_You’re just going to be training_ , Belle told her reflection. _There’s absolutely no reason to worry about how you look_.

Her reflection looked unconvinced.

Belle sighed and went back into her walk-in closet. Before she was the Slayer, she’d been something of a fashion plate. Now, fashion was her guilty pleasure. She never got to wear the pretty skirts and dresses she kept stashed in the back of her closet. They were too impractical when you might find yourself fighting a demon at any moment. But that didn’t stop her from buying them. Just every once in a while. Just as a special treat. She might never wear them, but it made her feel a little bit more like herself to know she had them.

Belle fingered the sleeve of a pretty blue and red flowered dress, trying not to wonder what Rumplestiltskin would think of her in it. It didn’t matter. Rumplestiltskin was just her Watcher, and this was just training. She turned back to the well-used sweats section of her closet.

And if the tight-fitting t-shirt she chose was a bright blue that brought out the color of her eyes, it was entirely a coincidence.

Dressed and ready, Belle left her apartment and descended the stairs to the street outside the dojo.

Rumplestiltskin was already inside. Belle could see him through the glass door, talking to Mulan at the desk. He was early. There were still five minutes before they were supposed to meet.

Belle pushed open the door, and Rumplestiltskin turned.

* * *

Their eyes met.

They’d been so close last night. It seemed like only minutes ago that she was holding him, comforting him, and yet at the same time, it seemed a million years had passed. What was perfectly natural under the starlight in the cemetery was completely impossible in the sunlight streaming through the dojo windows.

It didn’t matter. He was hers now. She’d promised that she would protect him, and she didn’t make promises she didn’t keep.

She realized she was standing there, staring like at him like an idiot. She cleared her throat and smiled. “Hello, Rumplestiltskin.”

He smiled back shyly. “Hello, Belle.”

Mulan raised an eyebrow. “I take it this one is yours?”

“Oh. Yes. Mulan, this is my friend, Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin, this is Mulan. She’s one of the instructors here.”

Mulan nodded stoically.

“I thought we could go up to my apartment to practice,” Belle said. “More privacy.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Is it --”

“It’s just above the dojo.” Belle pointed at the ceiling.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Yes. Good idea. Er...let’s go.”

* * *

It was strange to have Rumplestiltskin in her apartment, this stranger who wasn’t a stranger. She rarely had visitors. Even Ruby hardly ever came by. Her studio was her sanctuary. Having Rumplestiltskin there was a bit like having him walk into her head and have all her thoughts laid bare. She had to remind herself that this was normal. They were here to train. Watcher and Slayer.

She wondered what Rumplestiltskin thought of the place. He looked around curiously when he came in but didn’t say anything. She noticed his eyes lingering on the wall of bookshelves and thought he might ask about it, but then he looked away with an uncertain smile.

There wasn’t much space for what they were going to do, but it was enough to do some one-on-one sparring, and she had a practice dummy for when she was working on her own.

If Gaston were here, Belle would have sparred with him, but that clearly wasn’t going to work with Rumplestiltskin. Even with all the padding and equipment Gaston had worn, there was no way Rumplestiltskin would be able to keep his balance under her onslaught. So instead Belle offered to use the practice dummy to show him what she’d been working on, and Rumplestiltskin agreed.

It shouldn’t have felt different, training with Rumplestiltskin, but it did. Working with Gaston had been like working with a weight on her shoulders. Practicing under Rumplestiltskin’s studious gaze was somehow lighter. Better. Training felt good again.

She was caught up in her work, absorbed in the movement of her body, when Rumplestiltskin’s hand on her back jolted her back into awareness. Just a light touch, guiding her posture into a more correct form, but she felt the heat of his palm like it had seared her. She stopped abruptly, turning to meet his eyes.

“You do know martial arts,” she blurted without thinking.

It was the wrong thing to say. Rumplestiltskin’s cheeks turned pink. “I _am_ a Watcher,” he mumbled.

“No, of course you are.” Belle felt awful. “I don’t know why I said that.”

His hand was still on her back. He was standing way too close to her.

Belle turned back to the practice dummy.

“Let me try that again.”

* * *

The rest of practice went by in a blissful haze. Rumplestiltskin said little, simply guiding her movements with a gentle hand when necessary and making occasional suggestions in his soft, quiet way. Every time he touched her, he sent her body tingling.

When they wrapped up, it was close to lunchtime. Belle turned to Rumplestiltskin.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I -- well, I need to do some grocery shopping. And maybe furniture. Our flat is pretty bare at the moment.”

“Furniture? Where are you going to go?”

“I--I don’t really know.”

“I’m supposed to meet Ruby for lunch at Granny’s, but if you like, you could come with. And I could go with you after. Show you the best shops.” She gave a small smile. “I have pretty good taste, I think.”

“You do,” Rumplestiltskin said quietly. “Your place is lovely.”

Belle’s smile grew. “So what do you think?”

Rumplestiltskin fiddled with the handle of his cane. “I couldn’t impose on you that way.”

“It’s not an imposition. It would make me happy.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up at her from under his lashes, and the smile on his face shone with genuine pleasure. “Then I would like nothing better,” he said.

Belle grinned. “Just let me shower, and then we can go.”

* * *

“You can’t tell your dad.”

They were sitting alone on the bench in front of the school. The first bell had rung, and everyone else was gone. Baelfire knew it was bad form to be late on his very first day of school, but this was important. This was life or death.

“I have to tell him. He can help you.”

The boy -- Henry, he had said his name was -- shook his head. “You can’t. He’ll tell the Slayer, and the Slayer will kill my mom.”

“But she’s a vampire.”

“But she’s still my mother. I don’t want her dead. I want to help her.”

Baelfire frowned. “How--”

“Look.” Henry opened his book, flipping through the pages until he found what he wanted. “There are tales of vampires regaining their souls. There has to be a way to get my mom’s soul back.”

Bae skimmed over the page hurriedly. “It says here that the vampires that have their soul restored usually commit suicide.”

Henry set his jaw stubbornly. “That won’t happen to my mom.”

“How are you going to get her soul back?”

Henry’s face fell. “I -- don’t know yet. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Bae bit his lip. He should tell his father. This was dangerous business, and Papa would be furious if Baelfire put himself in danger and didn’t tell him. Papa and the Slayer would keep him safe, and Henry, too, he knew. But he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Henry. He understood what he was asking. If something happened to Papa, if he were turned vamp -- Bae didn’t think he could let him be killed, either.

He ran a finger along the edge of the book. “Where did you get this from?”

Henry glanced around, but they were completely alone.

“My teacher. Miss Blanchard. She gave it to me. I don’t know how she knows. She just slipped it into my school bag with my homework one day.”

“Maybe it was an accident?”

Henry shook his head. “No. I could tell by her face that it wasn’t.”

“Okay.” Bae made a decision. “Let’s meet here after school. We’ll go talk to Miss Blanchard.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how late this update is! Just to let you know, from here on out, my goal is to update every Friday. It's not as often as some writers update, but it's something fairly reasonable for me.
> 
> Btw, just so you know, your comments are my fuel. The more I get, the faster I write. ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's reading, and thanks to Aphreal for being such an awesome beta.

Rumplestiltskin was very deliberately _not_ thinking about the woman naked in the shower in the next room.

He was also not thinking about the graceful way she moved during practice, the firmness of her body, how warm she felt when he touched her...

God, he was an old lech.

To keep his thoughts under control, he busied himself with examining her flat. She did, as she‘d said, have excellent taste. Her furnishings were elegant in a way that suggested creativity and inspiration rather than extravagance. One whole wall was taken up by bookshelves.  Rumplestiltskin wandered over to examine them, but he couldn’t make out any rhyme or reason to the titles. They ranged from classics to bestsellers to nonfiction on a variety of topics. A book on ancient Egyptian culture sat next to one on carpentry. Science fiction was mixed in with romance. The only thing Rumplestiltskin could conclude was that Belle enjoyed reading anything she could get her hands on.

The sound of the shower shut off. A minute later, the bathroom door creaked open. He turned around.

Belle was standing in the doorway, wet hair plastered to her skin, wearing nothing but a short towel.

Rumplestiltskin gaped.

Belle glanced down at herself, then back at him. A flush spread across her cheeks.

“Oh!” Rumplestiltskin turned quickly back to the bookshelf. His face was burning. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Belle said quietly. “I’m just -- going to get dressed.”

He heard her soft footsteps leading to the closet, and the squeak of the door opening and closing, but it didn’t click behind her. Oh, god. She was naked in the next room, and there wasn’t even a closed door between them. Rumplestiltskin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the image of her in her towel, all soft, wet skin and shapely legs, but it seemed to be burned into the back of his eyelids.

Belle’s melodic accent floated out to him. “So what did you do in the Watchers before you were assigned to me?”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes snapped open. Did she really intend to have a conversation _now_?

He cleared his throat, which was completely dry, and tried not to think about her current state of nudity. Tried, and failed. “I, ah -- I was their records-keeper. I suppose you could say I was their librarian.”

An excited gasp. “A librarian! Were you really?”

She thought that was interesting? “Yes, that’s right.”

“I would _love_ to be a librarian. To go to work every day surrounded by books!”

Rumplestiltskin thought about the dusty old tomes in his care. “I don’t think these are the kind of books people get excited about.”

Belle laughed. “I get excited about every kind of book.”

Rumplestiltskin turned away from the shelves, but the light from the closet where the door was cracked only reminded him of what Belle was doing. Desperately, he searched for a distraction. His eyes lighted upon a book lying open on her bed. He picked it up. It was a battered, hardcover copy of Jane Eyre, held together by tape and looking like it might fall apart at any moment. He wondered how many times she had read it.

“If you love books, why don’t you become a librarian?”

A moment’s hesitation. “Too much schooling. College isn’t exactly feasible for me.”

Perhaps she couldn’t afford it. Rumplestiltskin had been diligently setting aside money for Bae’s education since he was born, but he knew not everyone had the ability to do so. Or the inclination. Still... “Surely there’s a way to make it work.”

She was quiet for so long that Rumplestiltskin feared he had offended her, but then she said, “I would love to take literature classes. Can you imagine? Your whole life centered on books and reading.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t repress a chuckle. “Yes, I can imagine.”

The closet door opened, and Belle emerged, fully dressed in a blue, button-down shirt and slacks, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Rumplestiltskin didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved that she was covered up.  Relieved. Yes. Definitely relieved.

“You sound like you speak from experience. You studied literature?” There was awe and jealousy in her eyes.

“I have my B.A. in literature,” he explained. “And two masters, in literature and library science.”

Belle crossed the room to his side and threw herself on the bed. “Ugh, I would kill to have what you have.”

His degrees had meant next to nothing to the Watchers, where schooling was expected, and his choice of majors were mostly useless. They had landed him a position about as low in their hierarchy as one could possibly get. After all, there was no chance of their records-keeper ever being assigned a potential Slayer. Belle’s envy gave him a strange, warm feeling in his chest.

“You should do it,” he murmured. “There has to be a way to make it work.”

Her eyes softened, and she bit her lip, the corners of her mouth lifting in a sweet smile. God, she was lovely. When she smiled like that, her already beautiful face became absolutely irresistible.

And then it was like a light went out inside her. “It’s a nice dream,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to question her, to find out why her dream was so impossible, but she was sitting up, turning to him with a question of her own. “But what about you? All that schooling, and you decided to become a Watcher?”

Rumplestiltskin could have laughed at that idea. “Being a Watcher was never a choice. Schooling was a way to put off the inevitable.”

Belle frowned, and that was all wrong. Rumplestiltskin hurried to explain. “My father was a Watcher. His father was a Watcher. And so on. It tends to stay in families.”

“And will Baelfire be a Watcher one day?”

It was like he’d been doused with cold water. Rumplestiltskin’s entire body tightened. “Not if I can help it,” he said through gritted teeth.

Belle looked at him, startled. Rumplestiltskin flushed, feeling foolish, but then he met her eyes, and his embarrassment faded. She was looking at him like she could see right into his mind, like she knew exactly what he was afraid of... and agreed with him.

“I understand.” Her melodic voice was soft and sincere. “I won’t ever glamorize this for him. You have my word.”

He let out a long breath, and a little bit of the fear that he carried constantly eased out of him. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her eyes held his. The moment stretched. Rumplestiltskin’s heart started to thump. He should say something. He should do something. But Belle’s beautiful blue eyes fixed on his left him dumbstruck.

And then Belle looked away, and the spell was broken. “We should get going,” she said lightly. “Ruby will be waiting.” 

Rumplestiltskin tried not to let his disappointment show. “Of course.”

* * *

Rumplestiltskin could tell from Ruby’s face when they walked into Granny’s that she was not happy to see him there. She covered it quickly, though, her face slipping into a neutral expression that would make any poker player proud.

“Ruby, you remember Rumplestiltskin, don’t you?”

Ruby held out a hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Rumplestiltskin mumbled.

Luckily, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t called upon to contribute much to the conversation over lunch. Belle and Ruby kept up a steady stream of chatter while Rumplestiltskin focused on his meal. That suited him fine. He didn’t know why Ruby seemed to disapprove of him, and he wasn’t keen to find out.

When their plates were nearly empty, Belle rose. “Going to the ladies’ room,” she said. “Be right back.”

Ruby nodded in acknowledgement, and then they were alone.

Rumplestiltskin picked at the fries remaining on his plate, hoping he was not being rude and wondering if he ought to say something. He glanced up.

Ruby was glaring at him from across the table.

Oh.

She leaned forward. “I have something to say to you.”

“Yes?” Rumplestiltskin croaked.

“I don’t know what kind of game you Watchers are playing. Frankly, I don’t care. If you hurt Belle in any way, I will dismember you.”

Rumplestiltskin jumped. Ruby was staring at him in a way that made him believe she might actually be an axe murderer.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he stammered. “I’m here to help.”

Ruby leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “We’ll see.”

“Hey!” Belle slid back into the booth next to Ruby, and Rumplestiltskin breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you two talking about?”

“We’re just getting to know each other.” Ruby smiled so casually no one would ever believe she’d been threatening his life mere seconds ago.

“That’s great!” Belle grinned from ear to ear, and despite his unease, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her face lit up when she was happy.

Ruby’s grandmother, Mrs. Lucas, approached their table. “All right, you kids,” she said, “get on out of here. You’re taking up space.”

Belle frowned. “You haven’t brought the check.”

“It’s on me today.”

“Granny--”

“Now, don’t argue with me, girl. It’s my diner, and I’ll do what I like.” Mrs. Lucas gave Belle a meaningful look. “Just don’t forget about what’s coming up, you understand?”

“Of course I won’t forget. But, Granny--”

Mrs. Lucas scowled at Belle, and Belle stopped talking. “That’s more like it.” Mrs. Lucas nodded her approval. “You be careful out there, you hear?”

“Of course, Granny.”

* * *

Baelfire fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve as he followed Henry down the school hallway. He was more nervous about meeting Henry’s teacher than he would admit. There were any number of ways she could have gained knowledge of the occult, and most of them weren’t good. For all that Bae had grown up with the secret that monsters and magic were real, he had never had any real encounters with that world. Papa had always made sure he was carefully protected from it. Sometimes Bae had resented being sheltered, not being allowed to help, but now, walking straight into a reality he’d only been told about, he couldn’t help a secret wish that his father were here.

He would be on his guard.

“This is it,” Henry said, and Baelfire followed him into the classroom.

Miss Blanchard wasn’t what Baelfire was expecting. She was soft and pretty and moved in a quiet, unimposing way. When he walked in the door with Henry, she smiled up at them sweetly.

“Hello, boys,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

Henry took the book out of his backpack and set it on her desk.

“I need to know what you know about this,” he said.

Miss Blanchard’s smile faltered. She looked up at the two of them, her gaze drifting back and forth between their faces, before settling on Baelfire’s.

“Close the door, would you please?”

Baelfire turned and shut the door behind him.

Miss Blanchard sighed. “I just wanted you to have some information about what you’d be facing, Henry. I wanted you to be prepared.”

“How do you know my mom is a vampire?”

Her expression was neutral. “I’ve met her before.”

“How?”

“I’m a witch. We’ve had...encounters.”

A witch. So that was where her knowledge came from. Baelfire was in a room with a real, live witch.

Baelfire bit the inside of his cheek and called to memory Papa’s teachings on witches and witchcraft. Witches were like other people; they could be good or bad, and there was no way to know which. Bae wasn’t his father’s son for nothing. He wouldn’t trust this woman until she gave him a reason to trust her.

“You’re a witch? Whoa, cool!”

Apparently Henry wasn’t as cynical.

Miss Blanchard’s lips quirked. “Not as cool as all that.”

“Were you born a witch, or did you learn it?”

“Witchcraft is learned,” Baelfire put in. “You have to study it.”

“Indeed.” Miss Blanchard’s voice was quiet.

“So where did you study?” Baelfire tried not to sound accusing, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Do you have a coven?”

Miss Blanchard shook her head. “I’m solitary,” she murmured in her soft voice. “I learned just enough magic to defend myself.”

“From what?”

The pretty teacher met Baelfire’s eyes. “There’s a lot of evil in this town.”

“Miss Blanchard,” Henry said, drawing her attention back. “Thank you for the book, but I need more help.”

Miss Blanchard looked alarmed. “I want to help you, Henry. But there’s really nothing more I can do. My power, compared to your mother’s -- it’s miniscule, and mostly defensive. I couldn’t possibly take on Regina.”

“But I have a plan! And you don’t have to fight her. I just need to figure out how to get her soul back.”

Baelfire watched Miss Blanchard’s face carefully. Her lips formed an O of understanding. “You want to save your mother.”

“Of course.”

“Even though she’s cruel to you?”

Henry’s face darkened. “She can’t help it, without a soul. Anyway, I can’t get away from her.”

“But you could call on the Slayer.”

Miss Blanchard gave Baelfire a sidelong glance, and he realized with a start that she’d known exactly who he was from the moment he stepped into her classroom. His father’s warnings about the dangers of being associated with the Slayer sprang into his mind. He steeled his face, pushing aside his nervousness.

Henry, on the other hand, looked angry. “No. She’s my mother.”

Miss Blanchard folded her hands. “I don’t know how to do what you ask. To restore a vampire’s soul?” She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone who could. That kind of thing, there are maybe one or two instances of it happening in all of recorded history. You’re asking for a miracle.”

“But you know where to look! Don’t you? You could help us find a way, I know you could. Please, Miss Blanchard.” Henry looked at her, pleading. “Don’t you believe in miracles?”

Miss Blanchard closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face was resigned. “Yes, all right, Henry. For you, I’ll try.”

Henry threw his arms around his teacher, who blinked in surprise. A moment later, she returned the hug, resting her cheek against his head tenderly.

Then she pulled away. “You had better go. It’s nearly three-fifteen.”

Henry nodded, grabbing his book quickly and stuffing it in his backpack. “Thank you so much, Miss Blanchard! You’re the best!”

He scurried out of the room.

Baelfire didn’t follow immediately. He stood there, assessing Miss Blanchard critically. She returned his gaze.

“There’s something you’re not telling Henry,” Baelfire said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “There is. But I promise you this, future Watcher.” Baelfire started at the title. “I have Henry’s best interests at heart. And I’ll never do anything to hurt him." 

There was no way to know if she was telling the truth, and nothing he could do if she wasn’t. Baelfire bit his lip and followed Henry from the room.

* * *

“So what’s our next move?” Henry asked.

Baelfire chewed his lip. “I don’t know, but we shouldn’t discuss it here. Anyone could overhear us. Do you want to come back to my place? We could--”

“ _There_ you are, Henry.”

Baelfire looked up at the woman who had spoken. She was tall, perfectly poised, and amazingly beautiful. She put a hand protectively on Henry’s shoulder, and Henry seemed to deflate.

“Where were you? I’ve been waiting for you.” The woman glanced between Henry and Baelfire.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I wanted to ask Miss Blanchard a question about my homework.”

 _Mom_. This was...

“Well, in that case, I’m glad to hear you’re being so responsible.” Her smile widened just a fraction. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Henry looked as if he’d rather do anything else. “This is Baelfire. He just moved here.”

Henry’s mother held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Baelfire took it mutely. She was a vampire. He was shaking hands with a vampire.

“We should get going, Henry. You’ll be late for your session.”

“Right.” Henry gave Bae a tight smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Baelfire.”

Bae nodded, frozen in place, as Henry and his mother walked away.

Baelfire had just met a vampire. He had stood right next to her, shook her hand, and he was still alive. But that wasn’t why he was terrified.

He was terrified because it was broad daylight out. And Mrs. Mills was crossing the school grounds as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

He didn’t want to betray Henry.

But he had to tell Papa.


	7. Chapter 7

Shopping with Belle had been a brilliant idea. Rumplestiltskin knew next to nothing about furnishing a home. His flat in London had been rented furnished, and before that, Milah always took care of such things. Left to his own devices, Rumplestiltskin would almost certainly have bought the first of each thing he saw. But Belle was a natural at this. He had only to answer a few questions about the size of the rooms, what he and Bae planned to do in the space, the colors he liked, and Belle worked her magic. His home was going to look classier than it ever had before, he realized, and she did it all without breaking his budget. And it made him happy to think that he would come home every day and see Belle’s touch everywhere.

“How do you know how to do this?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “I’ve read books about interior design.”

When he had purchased the basic necessities, and Belle had talked the salespeople into including free delivery, Rumplestiltskin turned to Belle. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

She smiled. “I think I should thank _you_ for letting me pick out all your furniture. Didn’t you say you needed groceries? I could come with, and then I could cook dinner for you and Baelfire.” She looked suddenly unsure. “If you want me to.”

He didn’t want anything more. He couldn’t believe his good luck, actually. Why on earth would a woman like Belle want to spend her evening cooking for him?

He had some fear about Bae being seen with the Slayer, but as long as it took place in the privacy of his home...

“I’d love for you to join us. But you don’t have to cook. I mean -- I’d love for you to cook, but you don’t have to.”

“I love to cook.” Belle smiled. “I make a really good pork roast, I’m told.”

“Well...” Rumplestiltskin couldn’t hold back his grin. “If that’s what you want...”

* * *

Baelfire stepped through the front door of their flat and stopped dead in his tracks. The house was full of furniture. Nice furniture. Better-looking furniture than he  and Papa had ever had. Two delivery men were setting a couch down in their living room.

Papa and the Slayer were in the kitchen, surrounded by grocery bags, putting food away and laughing.

Bae stood stock-still for a moment, trying to remember the last time he’d seen his father laugh so unreservedly. He couldn’t recall if he ever had.

“Oh! Bae!” Papa spotted him and grinned. _Grinned_. “You’re home! How was your first day at school, son?”

Baelfire’s words stuck in his throat. He had been all set to tell Papa about Henry and Miss Blanchard and Mrs. Mills as soon as he got home. But now, looking at the huge smile on his father’s face, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Papa never looked this happy. He might smile, but there was always this fear underneath it, in his eyes, in his body. Sometimes Bae would lie awake at night, just trying to think of a way to help his father. He’d been wishing for years to see Papa this happy and unworried. He couldn’t be the person to break this spell.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt too much if he waited a little before he told him.

“It was good,” he said. “The kids are cool. I think my classes are going to be easier than the ones in London.”

“Maybe we need to see about getting you into more advanced classes.”

“Maybe.” Bae smiled tentatively at the Slayer. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Baelfire.” The Slayer smiled, and Bae was pleased to see that she looked as happy as Papa did. “I thought I might cook dinner for you and your father. Would that be all right with you?”

Baelfire’s eyebrows flew up, and he sneaked a glance at Papa, who was giving him an I-can’t-believe-it-either look. “That would be great!”

“Do you like pork roast?”

Bae would have said he liked dirt if that was what she was offering. “I love it.”

He might have really found the answer this time. Maybe fixing Papa up with the Slayer was exactly what he needed. Baelfire watched her laugh and touch his Papa’s arm. Bae would get to have the Slayer around. Doing things like cooking them dinner. It couldn’t be any more perfect.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin thought he must be in some kind of beautiful dream.

Belle had spent the evening bustling around his kitchen, making herself at home just as if she lived there. In between chopping up sweet potatoes and checking the roast, she took time to sit with Bae at the new kitchen table, helping him with his homework. Rumplestiltskin suspected that Bae was pretending to understand less than he really did, just to keep Belle’s attention on him, but he wasn’t going to say a word.

In between chatter, Belle hummed while she cooked and occasionally sent Rumplestiltskin shy little glances that made him want to melt into the floor. Just for a little while, he allowed himself to pretend that she was his wife, and Baelfire’s mother, and that she would stay with them forever.

When the food was ready, they sat around the table, eating their fill of the most delicious pork roast and sweet potatoes Rumplestiltskin had ever tasted. When Baelfire asked where she’d learned to cook like that, Belle laughed and said that she’d read a lot of cookbooks. Soon they were all stuffed so full they couldn’t eat another bite, and Rumplestiltskin began gathering the dishes.

“I’ll do that.” Belle started to rise.

“No, no.” Rumplestiltskin stood before she could. “You’ve done plenty. Sit. I’ve got this.”

Belle bit her lip, but she stayed in her seat.

Rumplestiltskin carried the dishes to the sink and put the kettle on for tea. On a whim, he took out his best china tea set. This was as special an occasion as he and Bae ever had. If anyone deserved his best, it was Belle.

They moved into the living room, and Rumplestiltskin poured their tea. Belle took hers with lemon and honey, just like he did, and Rumplestiltskin felt a little surge of pride at having something in common with her. A short while later, the three of them were laughing and talking like they’d known each other forever. Bae was telling Belle who all his teachers were, and she was sharing stories and giving advice about the ones she knew.

Suddenly, Baelfire looked down. “I made a new friend today. His name is Henry Mills.”

“Oh?” Rumplestiltskin set down his cup, glad to hear this news. He worried about his son having to make all new friends. “Is he in your classes?”

“No, he’s a few years younger than me. Still in sixth grade. I met his teacher, too. Miss Blanchard?” His eyes flicked toward Belle’s face.

Belle shook her head, biting her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think I know her. She must not have been there when I was a kid.”

“Well, she did look pretty young.”

“But the name Mills – is your friend Henry related to the mayor? Regina Mills?”

Bae blinked. “Yes, that’s his mother. She’s the mayor?”

Belle nodded. “She’s got the whole town under her thumb, they say. Rules with an iron will. Still, she’s very good what she does. I’d vote for her again.”

Bae looked back down at the table, then took a deep breath. “Papa –” He hesitated.

“What is it, Bae?”

He hesitated, biting his lip.

Rumplestiltskin felt a twinge of concern. Surely nothing could be wrong already. It was only his first day of school. “Son?”

Bae exhaled. “I was just wondering if... I could have Henry over tomorrow after school.”

Was that all? Baelfire had always had his friends over whenever he liked. Still, things were different now, with a Slayer in their lives. Maybe he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t be interrupting something sensitive. “Of course you can, Bae. Your friends can come by anytime.”

Baelfire nodded. “Thanks.” He sounded less happy than Rumplestiltskin expected.

Rumplestiltskin picked up his cup to sip from it again, pondering this change in mood, and realized it was empty. Belle seemed to notice at the same time. “Let me get that for you,” she offered, reaching for the cup.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it.”

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure exactly what happened next – he thought Belle had the cup in her hands, and he let go of it himself, and then suddenly, the cup was crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

“You see?” Rumplestiltskin joked. “This is what happens when you don’t listen to your Watcher.”

Belle was holding her hands over her mouth, looking down at the cup in horror.

Rumplestiltskin wanted to take his words back. What was he thinking? That joke had been in terrible humor. “That was a quip,” Rumplestiltskin said uncertainly. “Not serious.”

Belle reached down and picked up the teacup, looking like she might cry. “Your cup – it’s chipped. I’ve chipped it.”

Rumplestiltskin and Bae exchanged concerned looks, neither one quite sure what to do. Baelfire leaned over and took the cup from her hands. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s fine. Look, you can hardly see it!”

A glaringly large chunk of ceramic was missing from the rim, making Baelfire’s assertion rather amusing, but Rumplestiltskin couldn’t care less about the thing. He smiled at Belle as reassuringly as he could. “It’s just a cup.”

Belle looked into his eyes, and whatever she saw there must have comforted her, because the tension went out of her shoulders. She smiled shyly back at him, biting her lip.

Rumplestiltskin took the chipped cup back from Baelfire. He refilled it from the teapot and took a sip from the unchipped side. “You see? Absolutely fine.”

Belle’s smile broadened, and Rumplestiltskin relaxed.

* * *

When the light through the windows began to disappear, Belle set her cup down gently. “Time to patrol,” she said, with reluctance in her voice.

Cold fear washed over Rumplestiltskin.

Belle looked at him. “No, no. I can go by myself. Don’t worry about it.”

That didn’t make him feel any better. “What if something happens to you?”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile that Rumplestiltskin found extremely unconvincing. “I’ve been patrolling on my own for the last ten years. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Gaston didn’t go with you?”

“Sometimes. If he thought I needed critiquing.”

He ought to be reassured to know she was used to patrolling alone. He didn’t know why he was so afraid. He’d seen her battling vampires, looking like some kind of glorious warrior angel, taking out the monsters like they were nothing. But at the moment all he could think of was the beautiful, sweet woman in front of him in the clutches of the evil he’d been running from his whole life.

Belle leaned forward and took his hands in both of hers, and the touch jolted Rumplestiltskin out of his thoughts. “Rumplestiltskin.” Her voice was soft but firm. “If you want to help me, stay here and protect your son. Do that for me?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She smiled again, but this time her smile looked genuine. “Thank you.”

Rumplestiltskin allowed his hand to tighten around hers. “Will you call me when you’re home safe?”

Belle bit her lip. It was a habit of hers, and one that was beginning to drive him crazy. Every time she bit that lip, Rumplestiltskin wanted to kiss it. “I don’t want to wake you up,” Belle said.

“I won’t be sleeping.” He knew that with certainty.

Belle continued to chew her lip, and Rumplestiltskin used all his willpower to keep from staring at her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I can come by when I’m done and make a report.”

Relief swept over him. He’d still be worried the entire time she was gone, but seeing her in person, safe and unharmed, would be much better than hearing her voice over the phone. If he saw that she was okay with his own eyes, he would probably be able to sleep tonight.

“Yes,” he said. “Please.”

Another shy smile crept over her face. “All right, then.”

He didn’t want to let go of her hands, but she slid them away reluctantly and stood, crossing to the door. Rumplestiltskin grabbed his cane and followed her.

“I’ll see you later. Thank you for an absolutely lovely evening.”

“No, thank you,” Baelfire said, and Rumplestiltskin started at his voice. He looked around and realized Bae had retreated to the kitchen some time ago, and had only just now reappeared. Had he left to give them privacy? Rumplestiltskin’s face grew warm. “It was very nice of you to cook for us.”

Belle’s smile widened. “I’ll do it any time you like. Just say the word.”

“Every day, then,” Baelfire said.

Belle laughed out loud. “Your father might get sick of having me around that much.”

“No, he won’t.” Baelfire spoke with surety, and Rumplestiltskin flushed harder. He contemplated strangling the boy once Belle had gone. “Good night, Belle.”

“Good night, Baelfire.” She looked at Rumplestiltskin, and her voice got softer. “Good night, Rumplestiltskin.”

It took him a couple of tries to find his voice. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Right. Later tonight.”

He opened the door for her, and she bestowed another sweet smile on him before she left. He closed the door softly behind her and let out a sigh.

“Wow. Papa.” Baelfire padded back into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. “She’s amazing! We have to keep her.”

Rumplestiltskin made his way back to the couch and sat beside his son. “Best not to get any ideas, son. We’re lucky she wants to have us as friends.”

“Papa. Have you even been paying attention tonight? Don’t you see the way she looks at you?”

Was she looking at him in a particular way? “You must be imagining things.”

“ _You’re_ imagining things if you don’t notice how she smiles at you. She likes you, Papa. You’ve got to make a move.”

“What? No. No. You’re dreaming, son.”

“You can’t just sit around and wait for _her_ to make the first move!”

“Nobody’s going to make a move. I’m lucky she even wants to talk to me. I’m not going to chase her away.”

Bae ran a hand over his face in frustration. “It’s all up to me, isn’t it? You’re not going to help me even a little?”

“What are you talking about?” Rumplestiltskin was alert now. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Baelfire patted his father’s shoulder and stood up. “I think I’ll go listen to music in my room. See you later, Papa.”

Rumplestiltskin stared after his son, knowing he could be up to no good. Absentmindedly, he picked up his chipped cup and ran his fingers over the rim.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Belle knocked softly at Rumplestiltskin’s apartment. What a silly idea, coming back here and intruding on him in the middle of the night. She’d never checked in with Gaston after patrol. Then again, Gaston had never shown such fear for her safety. The way Rumplestiltskin had looked, she couldn’t help wanting to soothe him.

Still, a phone call would have done just as well. She’d suggested coming back here for her own selfish reasons. Spending the entire day with Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been enough. She wanted to see his face again before she went to sleep tonight.

Rumplestiltskin was... wonderful. She’d never known anyone with his quiet kindness and thoughtful attentiveness. There was an ever-present sadness in his manner that made her want to scoop him up in her arms and promise to protect him against anything. And when she made him smile, really smile, and the sadness melted away, her heart felt like it was filled with helium.

And so she’d offered to come back here after patrol, even though she knew the chances of having anything to report were slim. Of course, as it turned out, she did have something to report.

Rumplestiltskin opened the door so quickly she almost thought he’d been standing by it, waiting for her knock.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi.” She smiled.

He opened the door wider, and Belle entered without waiting for his invitation. She hoped he would know that she wasn’t trying to be rude. It was a way of letting him know that she was still human. A vampire couldn’t enter someone’s home without being invited. Not that she could have been turned in the few hours since she’d seen him -- it was a process that took days -- but she wouldn’t want him to get used to giving verbal invitations, in any case. Safer that way.

Rumplestiltskin looked her up and down, checking to make sure she was whole, it seemed. His eyes landed on her knee, and he drew in a breath. “What happened?”

“Just a scrape.” A vampire twice her size had managed to throw her across the pavement. She’d recovered her footing, but not before taking a nasty scrape to the knee. “I’m fine.”

Rumplestiltskin’s brows came together, and he took her arm. “Sit down. Sit. Come on.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, but she followed him to the couch and sat. 

Awkwardly, Rumplestiltskin kneeled in front of her. He rolled the leg of her slacks up carefully, as though afraid he might break her. His fingers brushed against her skin, and Belle shivered. The fabric rose above her knee, exposing a scrape that was rather more bloody than Belle remembered it being. Rumplestiltskin winced.

“Honestly, it’s nothing,” Belle said, but Rumplestiltskin was reaching for his cane, pulling himself up to his feet. Belle sat where he had put her and listened to the tap, tap, tap of Rumplestiltskin’s cane as he walked away. There was a pause, some rustling, then the sound of running water. Rumplestiltskin returned with a wet washcloth and a first-aid kit.

Belle could not find it in her to protest again as Rumplestiltskin kneeled in front of her. She could only watch as he took the washcloth and gently wiped away the blood. The cloth was hot, and it stung despite the care he took. His hands were steady, and they moved with practiced surety.

“You seem like you’ve done this before.” Belle’s voice was lower than she meant it to be.

Rumplestiltskin glanced up at her, eyes twinkling. “You don’t raise a son like Bae without bandaging a few scraped knees.”

“I’m ruining your washcloth – it’s getting all bloody.”

Rumplestiltskin made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and gave her a reproachful look. Belle closed her mouth.

“That’s better,” Rumplestiltskin teased.

They sat there, silent in the dark, as Rumplestiltskin tended her wound.

It felt good to be taken care of. It was a simple thing, perhaps, but Belle wasn’t used to such simple things anymore. The focused but soft expression on Rumplestiltskin’s face and the careful touch of his fingers made Belle feel like she was floating.

Rumplestiltskin set aside the washcloth and began delicately applying antibiotic ointment.

“Thank you,” Belle said quietly.

Rumplestiltskin only glanced at her before looking down nervously. “Taking care of you is the least I can do.”

“Well.” Belle swallowed. “Nobody’s taken care of me for a very long time. So it means something to me.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up, and this time he didn’t look away. “Your last Watcher didn’t do this for you?” He sounded appalled.

“There wasn’t any need, I guess. I could do it myself.” Why she was defending Gaston, she had no idea.

Rumplestiltskin’s forehead creased. “You’re alone.”

Belle wanted to say that she was fine, that she had Ruby and Granny, but it felt like a lie. They didn’t really understand the burden of being the Slayer. It was something she had to bear herself.

“Yes,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin looked away again, taking a large bandage from the first aid kit and focusing his attention on removing the wrapper. He spoke so quietly that Belle almost didn’t hear him. “You don’t have to be.”

“What?”

Rumplestiltskin kept his eyes trained on the bandage in his hands. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?”

Carefully, steadily, Rumplestiltskin applied the bandage to Belle’s knee. “Help me keep Bae safe. Help me take care of him, and we’ll take care of you.”

His hands lingered on her knee.

Belle felt her eyes sting with moisture at his offer. He couldn’t know what it meant to her. He had his son, he had a family. But she’d been on her own for so long.

She was already planning to protect them both. To have them take care of her seemed like too much to wish for.

“Of course.” Belle put her hand on top of Rumplestiltskin’s. “You didn’t have to make a deal for that. I would do it, anyway.”

Rumplestiltskin half-smiled. “So would I.”

Belle’s heart fluttered at his words. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his warm brown eyes. Belle had always liked dark eyes. They were mysterious. Belle felt like Rumplestiltskin’s eyes hid layers upon layers of truths, just waiting to be uncovered.

She glanced down at his lips. They looked very soft. And kissable. God, she wanted to kiss him.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened. His shoulders tensed.

“Who did this to you?” Rumplestiltskin whispered.

It took Belle a second to realize he was talking about her knee. She blinked, and pulled her hands back. Right. Business. She was the Slayer, and he was her Watcher. She was here for a reason.

She took a breath, letting herself fall back into Slayer mode. “Vampires, of course. But not just any vampires. Remember the strange uniforms the vamps were wearing last night?”

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. “I remember.”

“I thought they must have been some small-time gang. Newly turned vamps banding together. But the vamps tonight wore the same black uniforms, and there were twice as many.” Some of them had gotten away, and that made Belle furious.

Rumplestiltskin furrowed his brow. “So something bigger. And more organized.” His voice was high with worry.

“Most likely.”

“Let me get my books. I’ll start looking up vampire cults.”

He was rising to his feet immediately, and Belle had to grab his wrist to keep him from walking away. He looked back at her in surprise.

“Tomorrow,” Belle said firmly. “It’s late, and we both need to sleep. I have to work tomorrow, but when I’m done, I’ll come here and help you look.”

Rumplestiltskin looked like he wanted to argue. Belle tightened her grip on his wrist. “I mean it. Sleep. Research will wait.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a breath of defeat. “Fine. Tomorrow. But I’m starting first thing in the morning.”

Belle couldn’t help but smile. “All right, then. First thing in the morning. And I’ll come over when I can.”

Belle stood, fixing her slacks, and crossed to the door.

“Wait.” Rumplestiltskin grabbed his keys from the new coffee table. “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Belle protested.

Rumplestiltskin gave her a look so helpless that her words died in her throat. “Please,” he said. “It will make me feel better.”

Belle couldn’t argue with that. “Okay,” she agreed.

Rumplestiltskin held the door for her as they went out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update took so long. I don't even know what to say. I've been working on it steadily, but real life got in the way. Just... here. I hope you like it. And I'm working on the next chapter already.
> 
> Btw, I made a change in previous chapters. I changed Rumple's injury from his knee to his ankle, to be more in line with canon. I would just let it be, but I anticipate many more chapters, and I know it will drive me nuts. So I changed it. If I missed any instances, and you notice, please let me know.
> 
> Many thanks to my amazing beta, Aphreal42.

Regina stormed into her office. “We have a problem.”

Zoso did not turn around. “Oh, do we?”

Regina peered over the demon’s shoulder to see what had him so absorbed. He appeared to be putting a tiny mummy into a box to be mailed. Mentally, she shook her head. That Dark One was a strange one, and she wanted nothing to do with his affairs outside of their deal.

“Yes,” she said. “Your Watcher’s son is trying to befriend my Henry.”

“Excellent.”

Regina seethed. “No, it’s not excellent. That Watcher brat will lead the Slayer right to my door.”

Zoso closed his box and began taping it up. “Don’t be so melodramatic, _your majesty_. We both know your protections make you all but untouchable.”

Regina fingered the ring on her left hand. “No one is untouchable.”

“No. But you’re about as close as it gets, aren’t you, Madame Mayor?” Zoso turned to face her. “You’re looking at this the wrong way. You have an inside man now.”

Regina restrained herself from taking the demon by the throat and shaking some sense into him. “My son knows nothing of this world. I can’t ask him to spy.”

“But you can feed him information.” Zoso appeared to be considering. “Tell him about the power of true love. Bring it up in conversation. Tell him that true love has the power to break curses.”

“Why on earth would I --”

“True love. Tell him,” Zoso continued, as if she hadn’t said a word. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a package to mail.”

He swept past her with his box, leaving her standing alone, fuming.

* * *

Baelfire’s alarm woke him the next morning at 6:15. Half asleep, he fumbled in the dark for his mobile to switch it off.

Then he groaned.

This morning, he was going to tell his father about Henry’s mom.

He was. He’d chickened out last night, but now he was going to do it, ready or not. This was important. Papa needed to know.

Baelfire rubbed his eyes and left his room.

He was expecting his father to still be sleeping, or maybe to have just woken up, like him. He found him sitting at the kitchen table, books and scrolls piled all around him, half-dozing over an open volume.

“Papa!”

Papa started and looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

His father blinked and squinted back down at his book. “Research.”

“Have you been up all night? For the past _two nights_?”

“Of course not. I slept,” Papa said defensively.

“You’re the worst liar in the world. I don’t know why you even bother. Papa, what are you thinking?”

Papa blinked up at Baelfire. “Belle’s in trouble. She’s been attacked by some kind of vampire cult twice. I have to find out who they are.”

Oh. It all made sense now. Of course he wouldn’t rest while Belle needed him.

His father turned back to the book, resting his elbows on the table and his forehead in his hands.

“No, no.” Baelfire crossed to his side, taking the book in front of him and moving it away. “You’re going to sleep.”

His father scowled. “I’m fine.”

“Believe me, if you could see what I see right now, you would not say that. Sleep. Now.”

Papa shook his head. “If I don’t find something before tonight, she could be attacked again. And if she’s unprepared, it will be my fault.”

The thought of Belle being attacked gave Baelfire pause, but only for a moment. “You’re no good to her like this. If you keep working in this state, you’ll miss things. And that could hurt her worse in the long run.”

Papa’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Baelfire tugged on Papa’s arm until he stood. “Go to sleep. When I come home from school, I’ll help you look.”

“No.” This seemed to rouse Papa. “You can’t. I don’t want you involved in this.”

Bae wanted to say that he was already involved, and always had been. He wanted to say how useless he felt when he wasn’t allowed to help. But these were old arguments, and Baelfire already knew how they would end. So instead, he said what he knew would get through to him.

“This isn’t about me, Papa. It’s about Belle. She needs us.”

Papa pressed his lips together, and Baelfire held his breath, waiting. He would give in. He had to. The man had stayed up all night in the vague hope of finding something to help Belle. He wouldn’t take a risk with her safety.

Finally, Papa said, “All right, Bae. Just this once. For Belle.”

Baelfire bit back a whoop of triumph. “I’ll tell Henry I can’t see him today and come back right after school. Now go. I promise to wake you up when I get home.”

“As soon as you get home.”

“As soon as I get home.”

Papa touched Baelfire’s wrist. Baelfire looked at him in surprise.

“She doesn’t have anyone,” Papa said in a low tone. “I told her we would take care of her.”

Baelfire blinked. The beautiful Slayer with the tinkling laugh and sunny smile -- lonely? It was an incongruous thought. A woman like that ought to be surrounded by friends. But Baelfire could tell by Papa’s face that this was serious. Belle was as alone as he and Papa were.

Well. She wouldn’t be anymore.

“Of course we will.” Bae nodded solemnly. “If she needs us, we’ll be there.”

Papa squeezed his wrist.

“But sleep now, Papa. So we can help her later.”

“All right.” Papa sighed and stumbled off to his bedroom.

It was only when the door closed behind him that Baelfire realized he still hadn’t told Papa about Mrs. Mills.

* * *

Henry cornered Miss Blanchard at the edge of the playground during lunch recess. It was risky to talk in front of other people, but the shouts of the other children would cover their voices, and that was as much privacy as he was likely to get before his mother picked him up from school. “Do you have any ideas of where to start yet?” he asked immediately.

Miss Blanchard looked around surreptitiously. “It hasn’t even been a day since you came to me, Henry.”

Henry was slightly abashed, but he pushed forward. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just -- this is important, you know? The longer we wait, the more chance there is of something going wrong.”

Miss Blanchard gave him an impenetrable look. “Something like your mother killing someone?”

Henry swallowed. “Something like that.”

Miss Blanchard continued staring at him, and Henry grew uncomfortable. “You realize that your mother is already a murderer. She’s killed hundreds of people.”

“I can’t change that. But people can change, I know they can. And my mom’s not really a murderer. She’s a vampire, she can’t help it. If we get her soul back, she’ll stop.”

“It’s not always that simple, Henry.”

Henry crossed his arms. “Once she has her soul, I’ll deal with the rest. But we need to do it as soon as possible.”

Miss Blanchard looked away.

“You have an idea, don’t you? Something we can try?”

“I have an idea, but... I can’t do it until I find some help.”

“Baelfire and I can help! What do you need us to do?”

* * *

When Bae met Henry at the bench after school, it was immediately obvious that he had news. “What is it?” Bae said. “Did Miss Blanchard find something already?”

“She didn’t exactly find something, but she has an idea.”

“What is it?”

Henry lowered his voice. “She wants to do a ritual. She thinks she can call upon the goddess Nanshe for a prophecy.”

The hairs on Bae’s arm rose at the thought of the magic required to do such a thing. He couldn’t help it. He’d been raised to be suspicious of anything supernatural. “So why hasn’t she done it?”

“Well.” Henry bit his lip. “She needs some help.”

Bae froze. “What kind of help?”

“She needs someone else to attend the ritual. Someone to record the prophecy. Because she’ll be in a trance when it happens, and she won’t remember.”

“And she wants it to be us?”

“Well. Not exactly. I volunteered us.”

“Henry! We don’t know anything about magic.”

“We don’t need to. Miss Blanchard will do everything. We just have to write down what she says.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“Miss Blanchard knows what she’s doing.”

Baelfire closed his eyes. His first instinct was to say no. He wanted to go to his father and tell him what was going on and have him take care of everything.

But then, he knew his papa. He could already see the way Papa would tremble and quake and worry. And Baelfire would be the cause of it.

Bae bit his lip, warring within himself.

Finally, he said, “I think I should tell my father.”

Henry’s eyes went wide. “You can’t tell him.”

“I have to. He’ll know what to do.”

“He’ll tell the Slayer.”

“That may not be a bad thing.” Henry took a step backward in horror, and Baelfire hurried to explain. “You don’t know her – she’s really nice. I’m sure she’d help us.”

But Henry just shook his head, and to Baelfire’s dismay, tears were forming in his eyes. “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

“Henry, wait. Let’s just talk –”

Henry turned on his heel and ran away.

* * *

_“ **Let him go.** ”_

_“You can’t be serious!”_

_“ **Not this one. This one lives**.”_

_The vampires retreated. Rumplestiltskin’s ankle throbbed, and terror pounded through him as he looked up at the cowled figure. He couldn’t make out a face, just the hint of greenish-grey skin._

_“Thank you,” he grovelled. “Oh, thank you.”_

_The demon’s laugh sent a shudder through Rumplestiltskin. “ **You don’t want to thank me, little Watcher** ,” he growled. “ **Before I’m done with you, you’ll wish I had let you die.** ”_

_The figure disappeared, leaving Rumplestiltskin shaking, alone in the room._

“Papa? Papa, wake up!”

Rumplestiltskin awoke with a start, uncertain for a moment where he was. Bae was standing over his bed, looking concerned.

“You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned as everything came rushing back -- Belle, the attacks, his promise to let Baelfire help with the research. He pushed himself out of bed. He was hardly well-rested, but the thought of going back to sleep wasn’t very appealing, even if he had the time.

“I’m fine. Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

Rumplestiltskin assigned Bae some of the volumes that would be easiest to make sense of, taking the harder ones for himself. They set themselves up on the couch, arranging the books in piles on the floor around them.

When they’d been at it for about an hour, there was a knock on the door. Bae jumped up immediately and rushed to answer it. Rumplestiltskin fumbled for his cane and stood as quickly as he could.

Belle stood in the doorway. Her hair was damp, as though she’d just showered. She wore a yellow blouse and grey slacks, and she carried a bag of take-away food. She gave him one of her shy smiles. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Rumplestiltskin realized he was starving. “You’re my hero.” He grinned and pressed a hand to his heart.

“Here!” Bae hurried over to the couch and began clearing out his books. “You can sit here, next to Papa!”

Rumplestiltskin’s cheeks flamed at his son’s complete lack of subtlety.

“Sure.” Belle’s smile broadened as she crossed the room and took the seat Bae had vacated. Baelfire, meanwhile, took up a perch in the armchair across the way. Belle began to take the food out of the bag, setting it on the coffee table. “I didn’t know what you two would like, so I got a bunch of things.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Rumplestiltskin said quietly.

Bae sat cross-legged on his chair and watched them smugly over his book.

“So...” Belle glanced up at Rumplestiltskin. “Where should I start?”

* * *

After hours of slogging through dusty old books, Bae knew one thing -- his father’s job was really boring.

However, judging by the way Papa was rattling on about the classification of supernatural forces, and the captivated way Belle was watching him, he was the only one in the room who thought so.

Bae reached the end of his book and closed it with a thump, rubbing his temples the way his father did when he was tired.

Papa and Belle looked up at him. Belle smiled. “Maybe we should all take a break.”

Papa looked like he wanted to argue, but he sighed. “I’ll go check on the tea, shall I?” He took his cane and retreated to the kitchen, leaving Bae alone with Belle.

Baelfire felt awful. He’d had hours to tell Papa and Belle about Henry’s mom, and he still hadn’t. He knew it was the right thing to do. He trusted them both, and he knew that he and Henry were in over their heads. But he couldn’t shake the guilt over betraying Henry. Papa and Belle would do what was best for him, and even what was best for Henry... but it might not be what was best for Henry’s mother.

He still had to tell them. This was dangerous. A vampire who could walk in daylight had to be powerful. By plotting with Henry, he could be making himself her target. And he would be helpless against her. He didn’t even know how to fight.

He wished he could be like the Slayer. She fought and killed vampires every night, and she never seemed scared. He wanted to be able to face dangerous problems and still smile as easily as she did.

She smiled at him now. “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Bae fiddled with his book. “How do you stay brave?” he blurted.

Belle bit her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I think -- you just have to do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.”

Do the brave thing. Could it really be that simple?

Bae took a breath and asked for something he’d been wanting since he’d learned they were moving to Storybrooke. “Will you teach me to fight?”

Belle blinked. “Your father hasn’t taught you?”

“He tries. But then he always gets nervous and wants to stop.”

Belle nodded in understanding, biting her lip. “It’s up to your father,” she said, and Bae’s heart leapt with hope. “But if I teach you anything, I need you to make a very important promise to me.”

“What is it?”

She leaned forward. “Promise me that if you’re ever in danger, and you can get away, you run first. Especially if there are vampires. You don’t fight unless it’s absolutely a last resort.”

Bae nodded solemnly. “Yes. Yes. I promise.”

Papa cleared his throat, and both Belle and Bae looked up. He was standing in the doorway from the kitchen, balancing a tray of tea things with his non-cane hand.

Baelfire moved to help him, but Belle was quicker. She was on her feet in an instant, saying, “Oh! Let me,” as she crossed to his side.

She touched Papa’s arm as she took the tray, and Papa blushed. Baelfire watched them smugly and wondered how long it would be before he was calling Belle “Mum.”

Papa followed Belle back to the couch. Belle began to pour the tea, and Papa quickly claimed the cup Belle had chipped the day before.

“Will you need to leave to patrol soon?” Papa asked uncertainly, and Bae knew he was wishing he’d stayed up researching instead of sleeping. The sun was almost down, and they didn’t seem to be any closer to finding anything about this mysterious cult.

“I’ll go before dawn,” Belle said, and Baelfire noticed Papa’s not-so-cleverly hidden sigh of relief. “I like to change the time I go out from day to day. Otherwise the vampires can just wait until my patrol is done to go out and look for prey.”

Papa nodded. “That’s a smart idea.”

Baelfire found himself sobered by the reminder that vampires were out there killing people every night. This wasn’t something to be told in stories or read about in books. This was a real, ever-present danger, and lives were at stake.

Idly, Belle flipped a page in the book she’d been researching. “Let’s hope at least that I don’t run into any more of our...”

She trailed off, staring down at the page.

“Belle?” Papa’s voice was hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve found them,” Belle said. “Look!”

She held up the book to show a woodcut illustration of a man in strange uniform, with black, pointy things sticking out in strange ways. Papa paled.

“Those are the guys that attacked you?” Baelfire leaned closer to get a better look.

“They were dressed just like this,” Belle said, putting the book down on the table so she could read it. “Listen. ‘The Cult of Amara.’”

“Amara,” Papa murmured. “There are legends of a gem of Amara. It’s something of a Holy Grail for vampires. Renders the vampire impervious to staking and sunlight.”

Baelfire grew cold. Impervious to sunlight. Like Mrs. Mills.

“‘The Cult of Amara is believed to have been founded in the mid-1600s,’” Belle read. “‘They claim to be ruled by a queen who is said to be in possession of the gem of Amara. As the gem of Amara is largely believed to be a myth, this claim has been generally dismissed. Nevertheless, the cult worships their queen as a representation of night with power over the day. They dress in black to honor her. The cult has been underground for centuries, and their current location is unknown.’”

“It’s known now,” Papa said quietly.

“A vampire queen who can walk in sunlight and can’t be staked,” Belle sighed. “Where do we even start?”

“You don’t think this queen actually has the gem of Amara?” Papa asked.

“I think it’s best to assume the worst than to be unprepared.”

Baelfire couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “Papa. Belle.”

They looked at him in surprise.

 _Do the brave thing._ Baelfire took a breath.

“I have something to tell you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gem of Amara is an artifact from the Buffy/Angel-verse. I've added to its history to weave it in with the OUAT characters.


	9. Chapter 9

“Henry’s mum is a vampire.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at his son. Next to him, Belle was doing the same.

“The mayor?” she said in disbelief. “But I’ve... seen her in sunlight,” she finished with dawning realization.

Baelfire nodded miserably. “I have, too. I shook her hand in front of the school. It was broad daylight out.”

“Dear god,” Rumplestiltskin breathed.

“That’s how I met Henry. He had this book -- it looked like of your books, Papa. So I asked him about it. And he told me about his mum.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” Rumplestiltskin croaked.

“I wanted to.” Baelfire looked at his hands. “But Henry made me promise not to. He said Belle would kill her, and he doesn’t want her to die. He has a plan. He says there’s a way to restore a vampire’s soul. He doesn’t know how, but... his teacher is helping him. Miss Blanchard. She’s a witch.”

Rumplestiltskin was frozen. His heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t believe his son had become so entangled in the supernatural world after only a few days. The hand that held his teacup shook, and he put the cup down before he could drop it and chip it again.

“I’m sorry,” Baelfire said quietly.

Rumplestiltskin knew he should say something, be a parent, but fear left him speechless. Bae had met a vampire. He’d been talking to a witch. And Rumplestiltskin, worthless, incompetent coward that he was, hadn’t even known.

Belle leaned over and took Bae’s hand. “You did the right thing to tell us. But next time, you need to come to us right away. Your safety is more important than anything. And your friend Henry’s, too.” Rumplestiltskin was surprised to hear a tremor in her voice. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on. Please.”

“I promise,” Bae said solemnly. “I meant to tell you both right away. If anything happens from now on, I’ll come to you.”

Belle squeezed Bae’s hand, and Rumplestiltskin was undone by the fiercely protective way she looked at his son.

“Are you going to kill Mayor Mills?” Bae asked softly.

Belle looked at Rumplestiltskin, but he still hadn’t found his voice.

“There’s a chance that Henry’s wrong about this,” Belle said. “She can walk in the sun. Maybe it has nothing to do with any ancient, magic gems. Maybe she’s just human.”

That would be nice, but Rumplestiltskin didn’t think he could be that lucky.

Baelfire looked doubtful as well. “Miss Blanchard was pretty sure Mrs. Mills was a vampire, too. I don’t think she’s human.”

“No, neither do I.” Belle sighed. “But if the book is right, and Regina Mills has the gem of Amara, there’s not much I can do against her, anyway. Pitting myself against her without preparation would be suicide, and I don’t plan to get killed.”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin managed to choke out, a new terror taking hold in his gut. “You need to be safe.”

Belle gave him a smile so sad it made his heart clench. “I think that Henry’s idea may not be a bad one,” Belle continued. “There’s not much I can do against an impenetrable vampire. But if we can get to her with magic --”

“-- and save a vampire queen?”

Belle looked down at the table, biting her lip again. “I kill people every day. It might be nice to save someone for once.”

* * *

Baelfire excused himself shortly after that, retreating to his room. Belle sat silently with Rumplestiltskin, feeling like a complete and utter failure.

It had only been two nights ago that she had held Rumplestiltskin in her arms and told him he was hers. Only one night since she had made a deal with Rumplestiltskin to protect his son. And in that short time, she had already let danger seep into their lives.

This incredible, kind, loving family had taken her in and treated her like she was one of them. She knew it was silly to think so after such a short time, but they made her feel loved, like she was part a family. That night in the cemetery, she had sworn that Rumplestiltskin was hers. They were both hers now, and she would do anything to keep them safe.

But she was already failing.

“You’ll teach him to fight?” Rumplestiltskin whispered.

Belle looked up at him, surprised. Despite tonight’s research session, she knew Rumplestiltskin didn’t want Baelfire to get too deeply involved in Slayer business. It was one thing to allow his son to eat dinner with the Slayer, but entirely another to allow her to teach him to fight. “I will if you want me to.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded so slightly she almost didn’t see it. “He should be able to defend himself if he has to. I don’t want him to need it, but I don’t seem to be getting what I want.”

He looked so utterly broken that Belle couldn’t help herself. She reached out and took both his hands in hers.

Rumplestiltskin looked up at her, startled. His eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“He’s a good kid,” Belle said. “He came to you when he needed help. He’s smart. We can keep him safe.”

“Everything I’ve ever done, since the day he was born, has been for him.” Rumplestiltskin’s hands began to tremble in Belle’s. “He shook hands with a vampire queen. He’s been talking to a witch. We’ve only been here three days.”

Bell’s heart wrenched at the fear in his eyes. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms.

“I’m going to keep him safe.” Belle closed her eyes and prayed that she’d be able to keep that promise. “I’ll protect him.”

Rumplestiltskin’s hands pressed against her back, pulling her closer to him. His face was buried against her neck. She could feel his breath against her skin.

“All I have is my boy.” His voice shook. “If I lose him, I would truly become dust.”

Belle couldn’t respond. She pressed her face against his hair, stroking his back, willing as much comfort into her touch as she could. This man -- this loving, thoughtful, sincere man -- deserved all the happiness in the world.

“Thank you, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I couldn’t get through this if you weren’t here.”

Belle was starting to feel intoxicated from the smell of his hair. His face moved against her neck, and the brush of skin against skin made her shiver. She pulled back, not letting go, just enough to look into his eyes, his face only inches from hers.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she breathed.

Rumplestilstkin looked at her in wonder. His fingers curled against her back.

With a loud crash, a book toppled from the top of one of the stacks surrounding them. Belle and Rumplestiltskin jumped apart.

“I’ll get that.” Belle leaned over to pick up the book. It had fallen open, showing a gruesome illustration of a young woman being murdered by a gang of vampires. The caption caught Belle’s eye. _Death of a Slayer, 1723_.

Belle felt suddenly cold. How could she let herself forget? Slayers did not get to live long, happy lives. They did not get to marry and grow old with their husbands. They did not get to raise children, and if they became parents, they left their children orphaned.

She wasn’t the person who could bring happiness into Rumplestiltskin and Bae’s lives. If she tried to push her way into their family, she could only bring them pain.

She wouldn’t do that to them.

Rumplestiltskin was a Watcher. He knew what happened to Slayers. There was no way he could want her the way she wanted him, and anything she saw to the contrary was just wishful thinking.

“Belle?” Rumplestiltskin’s voice sounded a bit desperate. He probably wanted her to leave. There wasn’t really any point to her staying any longer now that their research was done.

Bell closed the book and forced a smile on her face.

“I really should go if I’m going to get up early to patrol. Need to sleep and all that.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked at her. “Oh. I -- if you’re sure --”

Belle looked away, because if she looked at him any longer she was just going to grab him and kiss him. “Yes, I’d better. Thank you for having me over, Rumplestiltskin.”

“You’re welcome here any time at all, Belle.”

She stood, and Rumplestiltskin followed her to the door.

“You don’t have to go.” Rumplestiltskin’s quiet words surprised her. “The couch folds out into a bed, you know. And the person who picked it out has excellent taste.”

Was it her imagination, or did Rumplestiltskin look hopeful?

He couldn’t know what that offer meant to her, how much she wished she could stay here under the same roof as them and pretend she belonged. But the sooner she accepted that this wasn’t her place, the better it would be for all of them.

“No, I’d better not.” Her fake smile was still plastered to her face, and her cheeks were starting to get tired. “We should talk to this Miss Blanchard, though. Tomorrow before school, perhaps?”

Rumplestiltskin’s brow creased. He nodded.

“All right, then. Good night, Rumplestiltskin.” Belle fled out the door before she could change her mind.

* * *

Bae was spying on Papa and Belle from his bedroom door. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but things looked to be going well. Until Belle suddenly bolted from the house.

He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Belle obviously liked Papa, and Papa was head over heels for Belle. He’d been sure they were about to kiss. So why had Belle run off?

Clearly, his help so far had been too subtle. They were going to need a more direct approach.

* * *

Belle was wearing sweats with her hair pulled back in a ponytail when she showed up at his door the next morning, and Rumplestiltskin thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Quickly, he looked her over for any signs of injury. Nothing was visible, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“How was it?”he asked quietly.

“Not bad. They attacked again.” Fear washed over him at her words, and he fought to hide it from her. “Not as many as before.”

“Are you okay?” His eyes ran over her again, looking for anything he might have missed, but he saw only toned muscle and soft curves.

Belle smiled softly. “I’m fine.”

Baelfire trudged out of his bedroom at that moment. “Third day of school, and I have to bring my father,” he grumbled.

“I’m not even going in!” Rumplestiltskin protested. “We’re going to the grammar school.”

Belle appeared to be fighting a smirk. “We’ll do our best not to embarrass you,” she told Baelfire.

* * *

Henry was sitting on his bench, reading his book, when he happened to glance up. Baelfire was standing with an older man and a really pretty woman.

His father and the Slayer.

Baelfire seemed to be telling them something. Before Henry could react, the Slayer turned to look at him.

His first instinct was to run, but he pushed it away. If the Slayer was going to kill his mom, he would let her know exactly what he thought of that.

The Slayer started walking towards him.

Henry closed his book and stood. His fingers tightened around the edges of the cover.

“Are you Henry?” the Slayer asked.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “I just want to let you know, Henry, that if there’s any way to bring back your mother’s soul -- I’m going to help you.”

Henry opened his mouth to retort when the Slayer’s words registered. She wanted to help him?

“Are you -- you are --”

The beautiful woman smiled. “I’m Belle. The Vampire Slayer.”

* * *

Mary Margaret Blanchard was preparing a lesson before school when the office secretary called her room. “There are a couple of people here to see you. They say their names are Belle French and Rum-Rumple--” There was a muffled voice, and the secretary returned. “Rumplestiltskin Gold.”

The Slayer and her new Watcher. So Baelfire had told his father what was going on after all.

“Yes, thank you, Ashley. I’ll come down.”

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin was surprised by the sweet-looking woman with the pixie cut who came down to meet them. It was perhaps a stereotype, but all the witches he’d known had dressed as one would expect from a witch, in dark, gothic garb. In her pastel skirt and sweater set, Miss Blanchard did not fit his expectations.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss French, Mr. Gold. I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard. Would you like to come back to my classroom?”

Belle smiled. “Yes, thank you.”

They signed their names on a list of visitors and followed Miss Blanchard down a hallway. Rumplestiltskin tried not to feel as though every eye in the school was on him. That was silly. No doubt the other teachers assumed that he and Belle were parents. His face warmed slightly at the thought of Belle being taken for his wife.

Miss Blanchard led them into a classroom and closed the door behind them.

“I assume you’re here about Henry.”

“Actually,” Belle said, “we’re here about Regina Mills.”

“Ah.” Miss Blanchard sat at a table in the classroom and gestured for them to join her. They did so. “I don’t know how much help I can give you. She’s a very powerful vampire.”

Belle leaned forward. “She can walk in sunlight. Are you sure she’s a vampire?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I don’t know how she stays out in the sun, but I know she’s a vampire.”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart sank. He had hoped Miss Blanchard would have more insight than they had. Instead, it seemed they knew more than her. “We think she has the gem of Amara,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Miss Blanchard’s mouth opened in an O. “I thought that was just a story.”

“It would seem not.”

“But if she has the gem, that would mean she’s not only invulnerable to sun, but to staking, too.”

Belle nodded. “And that brings us to why we’re here. Henry’s plan -- is it possible?”

Miss Blanchard bit her lip and looked away. “Your Watcher probably knows more about it than I do,” she said, confirming Rumplestiltskin’s suspicions. “I’ve heard the legends. In theory, it should be possible. But I don’t know the first thing about it.”

“But you were planning a ritual,” Belle said.

Miss Blanchard nodded. “I have done workings with Nanshe, a Sumerian goddess of prophecy, in the past. There’s one ritual in particular I know -- to call upon her for a prophecy related to a particular question. It would at least give us a starting point -- or let us know if it’s an impossible endeavor.”

Prophecy. Again.

“And you wanted the boys to help you?” Belle asked.

Miss Blanchard frowned. “No. That was Henry’s idea. He didn’t want me to tell anyone else about his mother. I told him I wanted someone who understood magic to be there, but he’s very stubborn.”

“I can do it,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I can help with your ritual.”

Both women looked up at him in surprise.

“I _am_ a Watcher,” Rumplestiltskin said, a little affronted. All Watchers had at least basic magical training, but Rumplestiltskin had made witchcraft and magic his particular area of study, back when he still cared about impressing the Watchers, before he was disgraced, before he learned to hate and fear the supernatural world. He’d even done extensive research on dimensional travel. Assisting in a call for prophecy would be simple.

“No, of course you are,” Belle said. “I just didn’t think you would want to be involved with anything like this.”

She was right, too. Ordinarily, Rumplestiltskin wanted nothing to do with anything supernatural. But prophecy, a chance to get a glimpse into the future, perhaps to learn something that might help him or his family... He’d always had a weakness for prophecy.

“If you’re willing, I could really use your help.” Miss Blanchard looked relieved. “Another experienced person would be invaluable.”

“It’s agreed, then. When would you like to do the ritual?”

“It requires a full moon. There will be one this Saturday. I assume you’d prefer not to wait another month.”

It was Wednesday. That meant three days from now. “Saturday will be fine. Will you come, Belle?”

When she didn’t answer right away, Rumplestiltskin looked to Belle. Her face had closed off.

“I can’t on Saturday. I have something I have to do.”

Oh.

Of course.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Belle was a beautiful, brilliant, amazing woman. Of course he wasn’t the only person to notice that.

Of course she had a date on Saturday night.

“You’ll have to do the ritual without me, I’m afraid,” Belle said. “It really can’t wait another month.”

“All right, then,” Miss Blanchard said. “If you give me your email, I can send you the details.”

Rumplestilstkin cleared his throat. “Right. Yes. My email.” He reached for a nearby slip of paper and scribbled it down.

Miss Blanchard smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday, then.”

Belle was looking at the floor.

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said. “I’ll see you Saturday.”


	10. Chapter 10

Rumplestiltskin did not see Belle on Thursday.

There was no reason he should see her. They had no plans, no pressing obligations. He tried to tell that to the crushing disappointment that weighed on him. It didn’t work. With Belle not around and no idea of when he would see her again, Rumplestiltskin felt as though a limb had gone missing.

Baelfire seemed to feel it, too. The two of them barely spoke over dinner, both picking at their frozen meals in silence. Finally, as Rumplestiltskin moved to clear the table, Baelfire said, “You should call her, Papa.”

He hadn’t said her name, but there was no question who he was talking about. “What for?”

“You’re her Watcher. You must have some kind of Watcher-y business to discuss.”

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

Baelfire sighed elaborately. “All right. Fine.” He picked up his backpack from the floor, where he’d dropped it earlier, then turned back. “Call her,” he mouthed, before retreating to his bedroom.

Rumplestiltskin dropped the empty frozen dinner containers into the garbage can. Of course he wasn’t going to call her. He was a grown man. He could function on his own for one day. He didn’t need to talk to Belle.

His fingers were dialing her number almost before he knew what he was doing.

Belle picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Er. Hi.” Oh, god. What had he been thinking? Why did he call her? “It’s, ah, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Hello, Rumplestiltskin.” A pause. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine. I’m fine. Ah, how are you?” Rumplestiltskin wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” Desperately, Rumplestiltskin grasped for something to say. “I -- Baelfire was missing you today.”

“Was he?” Belle’s voice sounded warmer.

“Yes. I think he’d like it if you’d come for dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Rumplestiltskin could tell immediately that this wasn’t a good “oh”. “I’m sorry, Rumplestiltskin, but I can’t tomorrow. I have something I need to do.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.” Rumplestiltskin felt as though all the air had been let out of him like a balloon. So it wasn’t just one date. She had Friday night plans as well. “Will you check in with me after your patrol tonight?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll call you.”

Just a phone call. Well, of course she wouldn’t come by in person every night. That would be ridiculous.

“All right, then. I’ll, ah, I’ll go now. Have a good night.”

“Rumplestiltskin?”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart thumped. “Yes?”

A pause. “Nothing. Sorry. Have a good night.”

His stomach felt like it was suddenly full of lead. “Good night, Belle.”

A click told him he was disconnected.

* * *

Belle stood in the basement of the abandoned library with her phone in her hand, feeling worse than she had in a long time.

“Everything okay?” Ruby asked, examining a large metal padlock.

Belle put her phone in her pocket. “Yeah.”

Ruby looked at her friend and set down the lock. “What is it? We don’t have trouble, do we?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Ruby waited for an explanation.

Belle sighed. Fine. Better to get this out in the open, anyway. “It’s just... don’t you think I could tell him what’s going on?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Wait, hear me out. He’s not like Gaston, Ruby. He won’t hurt you. I’m sure of it.”

“You can’t know that.” Ruby crossed her arms. “You’ve only known him, what, three days?”

“Five days.”

Ruby gave her a look.

“I know it’s not very long, but -- I’m asking you to trust me on this. Rumplestiltskin is a good man. He wouldn’t let an innocent human being be harmed. We’ve got three nights of this ahead, and he can help us.”

Ruby looked away, shaking her head slowly. “I trust you, Belle. But I don’t trust the Watchers, and I don’t trust him. It’s my life on the line, and my secret to keep.” Ruby looked back at Belle. “He hasn’t earned it.”

Belle understood the way her friend felt. It was true. Ruby was the one at risk if Rumplestiltskin were to decide that she was too dangerous to be ignored.

The door from the outside opened, and they heard Granny’s footsteps coming down the stairs. “Moon’s almost up,” Granny said, tapping her tranquilizer gun. “Best get into position.”

Ruby bit her lip and handed Belle the padlock. Slowly, she turned and walked into the caged-off part of the basement, closing the door behind her.

Belle put the lock on the door and shut it.

When the screams started, Belle and Granny both turned their backs.

“Do you want to take first or second shift?” Granny asked Belle.

“I can start.”

“All right then.” Granny handed Belle the tranq gun and moved over to the mattress they’d left on the floor. Granny’s crossbow lay right next to it. “I’ll get some rest now, then. Wake me up a little early so you can do your patrol before you sleep.”

“I will, Granny.”

Belle sat down on the floor and reached for her book, trying to ignore the cries that were quickly becoming inhuman.

* * *

“The next attack will be at the library. In the basement. See to it. And make sure they break the windows.”

“No.”

Zoso gave the vampire queen a chilling look. “No?”

Regina folded her arms. “You’ve had me at your beck and call since we made our deal, and you’ve done nothing to further your part of it. I’m done. Either you start showing me some progress, or you can play with your little Watcher all by yourself.”

Zoso put down the book he’d been writing in and stood, taking a step towards Regina. “Do you think my price was arbitrary? Do you think the pieces of this world just float about, separate from each other, unconnected? Are you that much of a child?”

Regina’s face was like steel, and she did not respond.

Zoso raised a finger to lift Regina’s chin. “If you want your stable boy, then I need the Watcher. It’s not negotiable.”

With that, the Dark One swept past her, leaving her standing alone in her office.

* * *

All day Friday, Belle missed Rumplestiltskin terribly. At lunchtime she battled with the idea of turning up on his doorstep during her lunch break with a couple of sandwiches. She didn’t do it. She couldn’t have him, and she was only torturing herself to pretend like she could.

Still, avoiding him was a different kind of torture.

By Friday night, Belle was going crazy with the loneliness. She sat in the library basement turning her stake over and over in her hands while Granny snored softly and Ruby’s wolf form prowled behind her fence. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her mind kept coming back to him no matter how hard she tried to force it away. She found herself inventing excuses to seek him out, and when she reminded herself she wasn’t allowed to do that, her imagination began to come up with scenarios where Rumplestiltskin would come to her.

Perhaps a shy, older gentleman with a limp and a teenage son wasn’t most girls’ ideal fantasy, but to Belle, their little family was perfect. She wanted to be a part of it more than anything.

The sound of crashing glass interrupted her reverie. “She’s in here!” a voice cried.

Suddenly the basement windows were shattering all around her, and black-clad vampires were pouring in.

Belle was on her feet in an instant, stake in hand. “Granny!” she called in warning.

“I see them!” A crossbow bolt whizzed passed her, piercing a vamp in the chest and disintegrating it into dust. Belle grinned. Good old Granny.

And then the vampires were on her, and there was no more time to think.

* * *

It was midnight, and Rumplestiltskin still wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting in the kitchen, pouring through his books, looking for some clue as to how to defeat the owner of the gem of Amara. Unfortunately, the information he had was vague and contradictory, as most legends were. There was no way even to know what the gem looked like.

“Papa. Go to sleep.”

Rumplestiltskin stiffened at the voice, and turned to see Bae standing in the doorway in his pajamas.

“I will. Soon. And you should take your own advice, young man.”

“I was sleeping. I’m getting a glass of water, and then I’ll go back to sleep. And you should, too.”

Rumplestiltskin said nothing as his son crossed to the refrigerater and filled a cup from the water filter. He should go to bed. His body needed sleep badly. But he was forcing himself to stay awake because every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares returned.

Bae paused in the doorway. “I miss her, too, papa,” he said. “But she’ll be back.”

And then he left.

Rumplestiltskin sighed and closed his book. Bae was right. It was time he slept.

* * *

Belle spun around, looking for the next enemy to drop down through the windows, but none came. They were alone. “Granny, are you okay?”

“It’s not me you need to worry about.” Granny’s eyes were narrowed, and Belle followed her gaze to the fenced-off section of the basement. “We’ve got a problem.”

A cold feeling washed over Belle. The windows on that side of the basement were broken like the rest of them.

And Ruby was gone.

Granny dropped her crossbow and picked up the tranq gun. “Come on, girl. We’ve got to get out there before someone gets hurt.”

But Belle had her cell phone out and was dialing Rumplestiltskin.

“What are you doing? You can’t tell him.”

“I have to. He can help us, and besides, he has a right to know.” Belle was furious with herself for not telling him sooner. Rumplestiltskin would never hurt Ruby, and Belle knew that. Now a werewolf was loose in the town, and everyone was in danger. “He has a thirteen-year-old son, Granny. He deserves the chance to protect his family. That’s the very least I can do for him.”

Granny looked upset, but she didn’t say anything else as Rumplestiltskin’s phone began to ring.

* * *

The wolf stared up at the hooded creature before her, a growl escaping her throat. Unnatural. Wrong. It didn’t belong. It was speaking to her, grinning, but the words were meaningless. The wolf only knew that it needed to be destroyed. It should not exist.

The wolf lunged, but it was too late. The thing dodged sideways and bolted down an alleyway. Howling, the wolf took off in pursuit.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin had barely dropped into the blackness of sleep, not even enough time for a dream to begin to form, when the chirp of his mobile wakened him. He fumbled for it in the dark, squinting at the display. Belle. His heart stopped.

“Hello?”

“Rumplestiltskin.” Had it only been a day since he heard her voice? It felt like years.

“What is it?”

“I have a problem. It’s Ruby. She’s – she’s a werewolf.”

It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, Rumplestiltskin sat straight up in bed. Whatever he was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.

“We lock her up every full moon under the abandoned library, and she’s always been fine, but tonight – Rumplestiltskin, there was an attack, and they broke the windows, and now I don’t know where she is.”

Oh, god. It was a full moon. And a werewolf was roaming free.

Rumplestiltskin was already pulling on his trousers. “I’m on my way.”

“You can’t. It’s not safe out there.”

“I can’t leave you to fight a werewolf by yourself.”

“I have Granny.”

Granny? Mrs. Lucas, who owned the diner?

“She has a tranq gun and a crossbow.”

Rumplestiltskin was not about to be shown up by a little old lady. “I’m coming to help. I have my share of weapons, too.”

“You can’t hurt Ruby. Rumplestiltskin, it’s not her fault she’s a werewolf. She would never hurt a fly.”

“Of course.” Rumplestiltskin was insulted that she felt she had to tell him. “I wouldn’t kill a werewolf. I know how to handle weres.”

“I knew you would.” Belle sounded relieved. “But we don’t know where she is. Can you turn on the news or something and see if anything has been reported?”

“I can do better than that.” Rumplestiltskin stumbled into his workroom and found the police scanner he kept there. He flipped it on.

And froze.

“Rumple? Did you hear something? Do you know where she is?”

“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper. “She’s been spotted coming up Forest Lane. She’s coming this way.”

* * *

Baelfire was awoken  by a loud bang. It took him a moment to realize that something had hit his window. He sat up in bed, his heart hammering, wondering if someone was out there.

Nothing happened.

He was ready to lie down and go back to sleep when he became aware of a low growl.

Slowly, quietly, he slipped out of bed and peered out the window.

At first he didn’t see anything. Then light flashed in a pair of animal eyes, and he realized they were attached to a large, hulking, furry shadow.

He took a step backward, then another, hardly daring to breathe. “Papa,” he whispered, knowing his father would never hear him. “Papa.”

Those glowing eyes fixed on him.

“Papa.” Baelfire tried to make his voice louder, but he couldn’t seem to get air into his lungs.

The monster began to stalk towards him.

Baelfire’s back hit the wall.

The monster broke into a run.

“Papa!” Bae screamed as the beast hurled itself through the window, shattering the glass. It landed in a heap on his bedroom floor.

Baelfire reached a hand out sideways, trying to find the handle to his bedroom door without taking his eyes off the creature. It was almost like a wolf, but larger and more human-like in its proportions. Good god, what was it?

The monster regained its footing and fixed its eyes on Bae. He barely had time to scream before it launched itself towards him.

There was a loud pop to his right, and the beast collapsed with a roar.

Baelfire turned to see his papa standing in the doorway, holding some kind of giant gun, and looking like the greatest hero Bae had ever seen.

The creature got back to its feet, growling, and Papa shot it again. The thing swayed, shaking its head–

–and fell over on its side.

Slowly, with shaking arms, Papa lowered the gun, not taking his wide eyes off the creature on the floor.

“Papa,” Baelfire choked.

Papa looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Bae.” He dropped the gun. Baelfire reached out for him like a child, and Papa pulled him into his arms, squeezing him tight. Bae could feel that Papa was trembling all over, but he’d never felt safer. His Papa had saved him. Nothing could hurt him while his Papa was here.

“Are you all right?” Papa pulled back, holding Bae at arm’s length as his eyes searched frantically for any sign of injury. “Oh, my boy, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Papa, I’m fine.” Baelfire reached for him again, and Papa crushed him to his chest. “It never touched me. You saved me, Papa. You’re a hero.”

* * *

Belle’s reaction to seeing Baelfire was almost the same as Papa’s. She hugged him so tight and so long that he wondered if she was ever going to let him go again.

Not that he minded.

When she did let him go, it was to hug Papa just as long. Obviously, she had been scared to death for both of them. But there was something different in Papa’s hug. Papa cradled the back of her head in his hand, resting his cheek against the top of her head, and Belle pressed her hands against Papa’s back, and both of them closed their eyes. Bae tried not to seem like he was obviously watching them, but he couldn’t help but think that the two of them ought to just kiss and get it over with. He never saw a couple so desperately in need of help.

While they were hugging, an old lady with a crossbow slipped past them and headed down the hallway towards the bedroom. Baelfire wondered if he should say something but decided that Belle must know about the lady if she had brought her here.

A few minutes later, Belle, Papa, and Bae were sitting in the living room, and Belle was explaining everything.

“That _thing_ in my room was the pretty waitress from the diner?”

Belle looked as though she were trying not to laugh. “She can’t help it, Baelfire. She was a victim, too.”

Baelfire knew that, of course. He knew that lycanthropy was inflicted by bite. It was just that the beautiful lady who served them french toast and hamburgers would not mesh in his mind with the horrible monster that had tried to kill him.

“Then Ruby was attacked?” Papa’s question was soft.

Belle hesitated. “Not the way you’re thinking. She met a guy, went out with him a few times. He bit her while they were--” Belle looked at Baelfire and cleared her throat. “While he was human.”

Bae didn’t know why Belle was trying to cover up what happened. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know what sex was. But then he had a mental image of Ruby with some faceless guy, and his cheeks began to burn.

“Did he know?” Papa asked. “What he was?”

“We don’t know. He left town the next day, and we haven’t been able to find him since. It’s been two years.”

“That’s awful,” Bae said.

Papa leaned forward. “How did you find out what had happened?”

“Three days before the next full moon came around, people started finding slaughtered animals. Mrs. Pott’s golden retriever was found torn apart and half-eaten, as was Mr. Cogsworth’s cat. That morning, Ruby woke up naked in the alley behind the diner. She was scared and embarrassed, and she didn’t tell anyone.

“The second night was worse. Ruby had just started going out with Peter Smith, and she was absolutely crazy about him. They had a date that night. In the morning, they found what was left of Peter’s body, and Ruby woke up in the woods outside of Storybrooke.”

Bae fought not to shudder, but it was hard not to. He’d looked into the eyes of the same monster that had killed Peter. If his father had been a second later, that could have been his fate.

He felt Papa’s fingers wrap around his and squeeze. On any other day, he would have been mortified by the gesture, but right now, it was the most comforting thing in the world. Baelfire squeezed back.

“Granny realized Ruby was missing that morning, and she called me to help search for her. She and Ruby didn’t know what I was back then, but I was Ruby’s best friend, and she knew I’d want to help. Gaston and I had already started researching what might have caused the animal deaths, and we suspected a werewolf, so when I found Ruby in the woods, naked and alone... well. I knew what had happened, and I was able to help them learn how to deal with Ruby’s condition. Nothing like that has ever happened since then.” Belle stopped and bit her lip. “Until tonight.”

“I can help you reinforce the protections you have in place so that she won’t get out again,” Papa said, and hesitated, looking away. “You could have told me. I wouldn’t have hurt her. That’s not how the Watchers do things.”

“It’s how Gaston wanted to do things.”

Both Baelfire and Papa gaped at her. Even Baelfire, as sheltered as he was against anything he didn’t need to know for his own protection, knew that Watcher policy was capture werewolves alive, then cage them during the three nights of the change.

“When we figured out that a werewolf was on the loose,” Belle said, “Gaston wanted to kill it. He said that the Order was too soft on werewolves, that they were too dangerous to leave alive.”

Papa looked appalled. “ _Gaston Gray_ told you this?”

Belle nodded. “It’s why I never told him about Ruby. And why Ruby didn’t want me to tell you.” Belle bit her lip again, looking as if she might cry. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I knew I could trust you, but Ruby -- it was her secret, so I thought it should be her decision.”

A thousand emotions played across Papa’s face, and Baelfire wondered what he was thinking. Personally, he thought that Belle had done the right thing. As terrifying as it was to face down a werewolf, you didn’t betray your friends. And there was no way Belle could have known what would happen.

Papa’s expression turned to steel, and Bae’s heart thumped. He hoped Papa wasn’t going to say anything that might ruin things with Belle. Not when things were going so well between them.

“You made the choice you had to make,” Papa said. “And now it’s out in the open, and it won’t happen again.”

“No,” Belle said, and now a tear did slide down her face. “It won’t happen again. I’ll tell you everything you need to know from now on. I promise.”

Belle was crying. This was not okay. Baelfire slipped his hand from his Papa’s and threw his arms around Belle. Immediately, Belle wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to the top of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Bae. I never meant to put you in danger.”

“I’m fine,” Bae said. “It never touched me. My papa kept me safe. You don’t need to feel bad.”

A moment later, Bae felt Papa’s arm reach around him, enveloping both him and Belle in a hug. Bae hid his smile against Belle’s shoulder. The three of them sat there, holding each other, until Granny’s voice interrupted them.

“She’ll be fine, I think.” They looked up to see Granny standing in the hallway. “Probably sleep away half the day, but no harm done.” She smiled a tired smile. “Lucky for us that she ran to the one person in town who had a tranquilizer gun on hand.”

“Lucky,” Papa echoed.

* * *

Because there was a werewolf passed out on Baelfire’s floor, Rumplestiltskin tucked Bae into his own bed and lay next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep. It was only when Bae’s breathing became slow and even, and Rumplestiltskin was sure he was sleeping, that he slipped out of bed, closed himself in the bathroom, and allowed himself to break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Buffy!verse werewolf lore in this rather than OUaT werewolf lore. Also, both Buffy and Once seem to think that libraries are the place to lock up werewolves, so who am I to argue?


	11. Chapter 11

Ruby wished she were dead. Truly. She had nearly killed a child last night, and no matter how much Granny and Belle reassured her that it wasn’t her fault, Ruby knew that if she didn’t exist, the boy would never have been in danger. It had taken her years to stop thinking about Peter every second of every day, to push off the overwhelming guilt over his death and stop thinking of herself as a murderer. Last night had brought it all back.

Granny had understood, of course, and was covering for her in the diner while Ruby shut herself up in her room. So Ruby was surprised when she heard the door creak open.

“Granny, I told you I didn’t want to--”

The Watcher’s son stepped into the room.

“Hi,” the boy said. “I don’t know if you remember meeting me at the diner before. I’m Baelfire Gold. Your granny said it would be okay if I came up.”

Ruby didn’t know what to say.

“I wanted to let you know that my papa is helping Belle reinforce that basement you’ve been using. Putting bars in the windows and stuff. He’s got something important he has to do tonight, but if you want him to, he’ll come help with guard duty next month.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Mostly I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to keep your secret. And you don’t have to worry that we’re going to hurt you. That’s all.”

Ruby didn’t think she could feel any worse. She’d been completely wrong about the new Watcher, and because of her misjudgement, his son could have died. If she’d trusted him, if she’d trusted Belle, this might never have happened. What was worse, this boy she’d almost killed was here, smiling at her, worrying about _her_ feelings. Trying to make _her_ feel better. As if she deserved his kindness.

Baelfire Gold turned to go.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby blurted. Her voice broke on the words. “I’m sorry for what I almost did to you.”

Baelfire hesitated in the doorway. “It’s okay,” he said. “I know it wasn’t you.”

Ruby felt tears sting her eyes, and she tried to blink them back.

Baelfire looked at her for a moment. Then, suddenly, he was crossing the room. He sat on the bed next to her and threw his arms around her.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

Belle and Granny had said the same thing. Ruby couldn’t explain why the words were different coming from Baelfire. Perhaps because he had truly seen her worst. He had looked into the eyes of the beast, knowing that he could die, and he still forgave her.

Ruby started to cry.

She expected this boy, this stranger, to let go of her, to become awkward in the presence of a sobbing woman. He didn’t. He just held her a little tighter and rocked her gently while she let it all out.

Finally, Ruby pulled away, wiping the last of her tears with the back of her hand and feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest. “Thank you. Thank you for forgiving me.”

Baelfire just smiled. “There’s nothing to forgive. We’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

Ruby fiddled with her bracelet, feeling guiltier than ever for not trusting this family. “Well. If there’s ever anything I can do for you...”

Baelfire opened his mouth, then closed it. He cocked his head. “Actually, there _is_ something I could use your help with.”

* * *

 

“Mr. Gold,” Miss Blanchard said. “You’re early. Please come in.”

Rumplestiltskin gripped his cane and stepped inside Miss Blanchard’s apartment. It was a pretty, open loft with high ceilings and exposed brick. On the floor, not too far in, Miss Blanchard had set up a pentacle surrounded by candles in preparation for the ritual.

It had been fourteen years since Rumplestiltskin had participated in any magical workings, but a feeling of familiarity swept over him. It was as if he were remembering something that happened in another life.

“Since you’re here, you can help me prepare,” Miss Blanchard said.

Rumplestiltskin’s mouth was dry. “Yes, of course.”

* * *

 

It was the third night of the Ruby’s full moon change, and thanks mostly to Rumplestiltskin, the library basement was secure enough to use again. Granny was taking the first watch, but Belle wasn’t sleeping. All she could think about was how much danger Baelfire had been in and how much Rumplestiltskin must hate her now. She’d made the decision not to tell him about Ruby, she’d let Ruby escape, and then she hadn’t been there to protect Bae when he needed it. No matter how she looked at it, she had failed them both.

“If you’re not going to sleep, you might as well keep me company.” Granny’s voice carried across the basement.

Belle sighed and got up, crossing the room to sit at Granny’s side.

“Seems like your new Watcher is a good sight better than the last one. A good man to have on your side.”

“He is,” Belle said. “He’s a good man.”

“Are you going to date this one, too?”

Belle coughed. “Granny. Of course not.”

“He’s not your type, then? I guess I can’t blame you. An older man with a family is quite a commitment.”

“No!” Belle was offended at the very idea. “That’s not it!”

Granny gave her a piercing look. “Then what is it?”

Belle had no words to explain. She had told Ruby and Granny almost everything about being the Slayer -- except for the shortened life expectancy. It had just been too hard to look at these people who cared so much about her and tell them she was going to die. She’d thought they would figure it out on their own, what with the constant violence and vampire attacks in her life, but so far, it didn’t seem they had.

How could she tell Granny that she couldn’t impose herself on Rumplestiltskin’s family, knowing she could only cause them pain? That Rumplestiltskin couldn’t possibly want to get involved with a woman carrying an expiration date?

Belle looked away. “I don’t think he wants me,” she murmured.

Granny laughed out loud. “My girl, there may be men out there who are stupid enough not to want you, but that Rumplestiltskin isn’t one of them, and that I’m sure of. The only question is, Belle -- what do _you_ want?”

Belle didn’t answer. What she wanted was something she couldn’t allow herself to have.

“I really should try to get some sleep,” Belle said.

* * *

 

Miss Blanchard didn’t look much like a schoolteacher at the moment. She was sitting across from Rumplestiltskin on the pentagram, cross-legged on the floor, head lolling back, hands upturned on her knees, chanting. “Goddess Nanshe, I call upon thee. Speak to us true prophecy.”

When her eyes turned inky and focused on him, Rumplestiltskin knew it had worked.

The voice issuing from Miss Blanchard’s mouth was both hers and not hers. “Are you seeking prophecy again, Rumplestiltskin? You cannot change what was already foretold you.”

“Nanshe.” Adrenaline rushed through Rumplestiltskin’s veins. “I have already changed it. What was predicted never happened.”

Miss Blanchard’s head tilted to the side. She said nothing, only gazed on him in what appeared to be pity.

“My question is not for myself.” Rumplestiltskin would not let his voice break. “It is for Henry Mills. How may we restore the soul of the vampire Regina Mills?”

Miss Blanchard’s eyes blinked slowly. “Are you sure this is the question you wish to ask? To bring humanity back to a demon? You will only have one chance.”

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. Was the spirit implying that this was the wrong question? Would he save himself heartbreak or do greater good by asking how to kill her instead? Should he change his question?

No. He wouldn’t start second-guessing himself now. Short of wasting his prophecy question on what prophecy question to ask, there was no way to know what the outcome would be. This was the plan they’d agreed on, and he would follow through.

“That is my question,” he said.

Miss Blanchard’s body began to tremble, and Rumplestiltskin grabbed his pen and the book he’d brought to record the prophecy.

**“The most ancient and powerful force will break this curse. The answer you seek lies in the heart of the son’s mother. The son must journey to find what he seeks. On the Feast of St. Vigeous, her curse will break, and a new curse will replace it.”**

As the last words left her lips, Mary Margaret Blanchard’s body collapsed. Rumplestiltskin hurriedly scribbled down the last of the prophecy, then rushed to her side.

* * *

 

“‘In the heart of the son’s mother?’ What does that mean?” Baelfire asked.

It was Monday morning, before school, and Henry was in Miss Blanchard’s room with Baelfire, Baelfire’s papa, the Slayer, and Miss Blanchard herself, having a meeting of what Henry had dubbed “Operation Cobra.” Henry had told his mom he was working on a project with a schoolmate to get her to drop him off earlier than usual.

Baelfire’s dad had just read the prophecy, and it was all but useless. Henry had hoped for something that would tell him exactly what he needed to do. He didn’t want to be ungrateful for a prophecy from the gods, but this? He hadn’t the slightest idea what to make of it. He was hardly any better off than before.

“Maybe it means the change needs to happen in Regina’s own heart,” the Slayer suggested. “That only she can bring back her own soul.”

“The phrasing is odd, though.” Miss Blanchard frowned and tapped her chin. “‘The son’s mother.’ Why call her that? Everything in prophecy has a meaning -- there are no accidents.”

“Maybe it means that her relationship with young Mr. Mills is key,” Mr. Gold said.

Miss Blanchard shook her head. “But if Regina herself is the one who can change things, why does Henry need to go on a trip?”

They all fell silent, considering.

Henry tried to think hard, but it all seemed so frustratingly hopeless. If his relationship with his mom was the key, then they were doomed. He’d tried so hard, so many times, to reach his mom’s heart, but nothing made any difference. She was what she was.

No one else seemed to be having any brilliant insights, either. Henry searched the faces of Operation Cobra, hoping to find a sign of inspiration, but they were all creased in thought. Baelfire was sitting on the floor near the Slayer’s feet. As Henry watched, the Slayer reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair on Bae’s head. Henry couldn’t help the bitter wave of envy that rose in his chest. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the Slayer and Mr. Gold were crazy about each other, and the Slayer really liked Bae, too. It looked like Baelfire was going to get a mother who cared about him very soon. Being raised by a person wasn’t the only thing that made someone your parent.

And then Henry got it.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I know what the prophecy means.”

All the faces of Operation Cobra looked at him expectantly.

“‘The son’s mother’ doesn’t mean my mom. I mean, it does, but it doesn’t mean my _mom_ mom. I’m supposed to go on a trip to find my birth mom.” A smile broke out over his face. “I’m adopted.”

Miss Blanchard’s mouth formed an O. “Of course,” she murmured. “I should have realized.”

They all should have realized. Vampires couldn’t have kids. Then again, maybe the others had assumed he’d been born before his mom was turned.

“Wait a second.” That was Bae’s dad, sounding stricken. “We can’t send a sixth-grader off to find some strange woman whom we know nothing about.”

“No,” Bae said. “One of you has to go with him.”

“And kidnap the child of a powerful vampire queen?”

“Who also happens to be the mayor,” Miss Blanchard added.

“It’s all moot until we can figure out who Henry’s birth mother is,” the Slayer put in. “You can’t plan a trip without knowing where to go.”

“Miss French is right,” Miss Blanchard said. “Mr. Gold, do you have any Watcher resources that can help us?”

He was still frowning. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“We should all see what we can do,” the Slayer said. “And if anyone learns anything, we’ll share it with the rest of us.”

“With Operation Cobra,” Henry said.

The others stared at him.

“That’s what I call us,” he clarified. “Operation Cobra. Like a secret mission.”

“All right, then,” the Slayer said. “If we learn anything, we’ll tell the rest of Operation Cobra. Is there anything else?”

“Just one thing.” Miss Blanchard looked at Henry. “Be careful. If Regina figures out what we’re up to, we could all be in danger.”

* * *

 

Henry was walking on air. Not only was he going to get his mom back and save her from her curse, but he was going to meet his birth mom. His _human_ birth mom. His mom had always told him that his birth mom had been someone who couldn’t take care of him, who gave him up in order to give him his best chance. That was ten years ago. Everything had to be different now. Of course, he couldn’t go live with her or anything, but he was sure she would want to get to know him, spend time with him and stuff.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that sometimes birth moms didn’t want anything to do with their kids. But the prophecy had said she would break the curse, and that had to mean she cared at least a little, didn’t it?

He felt so good, he decided he ought to make up with Baelfire. Bae had only been trying to help by telling his dad, after all, and it turned out to be the best thing he could have done.

Henry waited outside the schools for Mr. Gold and the Slayer to leave, then approached Bae.

“Hey,” Henry said.

Bae gave a little smile. “Hey. Things are starting to work out, huh?”

“Yeah.” Henry shifted his weight. “I just wanted to say -- you were right about the Slayer. And I should have listened to you.”

Bae shrugged. “I understand why you wanted it to be secret, though. I mean, if it were my dad, I wouldn’t want to risk it, either.”

Henry felt grateful that Bae understood. The two of them sat down on the bench that Henry was beginning to think of as theirs. “Well. It’s going to be so much better now with all these people helping. We’ll figure it out for sure. Who knows?” Henry couldn’t stop a grin from spreading. “Maybe I’ll get more than one mom back.”

Bae looked up at him in surprise. “You think your birth mom might want to stick around?”

“Maybe.” Henry tried to play it cool. “Why else would she turn up in the prophecy?”

Baelfire blinked. “Yeah. I guess you’re probably right.”

“Well.” Henry was trying to stay realistic about it. “Maybe not. But wouldn’t it be great if she did?”

“It would be awesome. You’d be really lucky.” Henry wasn’t sure, but he thought Bae sounded kind of funny. Jealous, maybe. “I’ve learned the hard way that giving birth to a kid doesn’t necessarily make someone want to be a mom.”

Henry had always assumed Bae’s mom was dead. Suddenly, he felt bad for bragging that he was about to get two moms restored to him when Bae had none.

“Hey,” Henry said, “what about the Slayer? It seems like she really likes your dad.”

Baelfire rolled his eyes, but he did seem to cheer up. “Those two are hopeless. They’ll never get together on their own.”

“Maybe there’s something we can do.”

“Actually, I did have an idea.” Baelfire chewed his lip. “I was hoping you would help me.”

“Sure,” Henry said. “You know, my mom said that true love is one of the most powerful forces in the world. Couldn’t hurt to have that on our side.”

For one split second, Henry wondered if true love would be the ancient power the prophecy spoke of, the one that would defeat the curse. He dismissed it just as quickly. It was enough to wish that he might have two parents. To have two parents who loved each other was too much to hope for.


	12. Chapter 12

Mary Margaret had walked her visitors out and was headed back to her room to get ready for the day. Her mind was still full of prophecies and curses, which was why, when she turned a corner, she slammed straight into David Nolan.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” He reached out a hand to steady her.

Mary Margaret couldn’t be sure if her dizziness came from having hit her head when she crashed into him, or from the way David was looking at her, his face full of concern. Or maybe it was from the touch of his hand against her arm.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Thank you.”

He didn’t let go. “Are you sure? Do you need to sit down?”

She might, but if she sat down with him, the dizziness was probably not going to get any better. And she had good reasons for needing to avoid him. She grasped for a change of subject. “What are you doing here? This isn’t your school.”

Immediately, she wanted to kick herself. “Sorry. That sounded less rude in my head.”

But David just laughed. “Principal meeting. We were discussing ways we could support each other’s programming. Things we can do to carry over from one school to the other, you know.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret felt extremely stupid. “Of course.”

“Are you certain you’re okay?” He really did look worried. “I can help you get to your classroom. I don’t mind at all.”

 Mary Margaret’s heart leapt at the offer, but she pushed the feelings aside. “Yes, I’m certain.” Gently, she pulled her arm out of his hold. “Thank you.”

Was it just her, or was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? “All right, then.” He gave a small smile that crinkled up the corner of his eyes. “It’s nice to see you again, Mary Margaret.”

Mary Margaret forced a smile. “Give your wife my regards.”

* * *

David Nolan crossed the lawn to the high school and tried to squelch the regret that was rising in his chest. It was the way he felt every time he ran into Mary Margaret, and it was stupid. There was nothing to regret. It wasn’t as though he could have done anything different.

He’d been in love with Mary Margaret since high school. Since before high school, if he was honest. She was the beautiful, quiet girl with her nose always in a book, and he was the jock who ran with the popular crowd. They were from different worlds.

He’d admired her from afar, sure that she’d want nothing to do with him. What could he offer someone so smart? And then, when they were sixteen, he’d seen her at a dance, just standing by herself, looking alone and miserable. He’d been dateless himself, having chosen to go with a group of friends instead, and in a moment of spontaneous bravery, he’d crossed the dance floor and asked her to dance with him.

He would never forget the way she’d looked up at him from under her lashes as she nodded her agreement, smiling and biting her lip, or how soft and delicate she’d felt in his arms as they twirled across the floor. He hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from hers, and he knew by the time the song ended that there was no way he could let this girl go.

They dated for about three months, and those months passed like a dream, full of smiles and kisses and soft touches. David felt like he was floating. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He knew sixteen was too young to start thinking about things like marriage, but he also knew that Mary Margaret was undoubtedly the woman he was meant to spent the rest of his life with.

And then one day, it all came crashing down around him.

He’d gone to meet Mary Margaret at the toll bridge. It was their spot. David was especially excited because he had a gift for her. He’d found a ring that looked exactly like his mother’s wedding ring, and although it was only a cheap imitation, to him it symbolized so much more. It represented his love for her and his certainty that he and Mary Margaret would be together forever.

He was wrong. That was the day that everything changed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, backing away from him, like he was some kind of monster she was afraid to touch. “This, us -- it can’t happen.”

David felt like the ground was falling away beneath his feet. “What do you mean? Of course it can. I love you.”

“I don’t.” Mary Margaret set her mouth into a hard line. “Love you. I don’t. I’m sorry. I can’t lead you on anymore. It’s too cruel a fate.”

If she’d stabbed him in the heart, it might have hurt less. The world had stopped making sense. Mary Margaret was leaving. How could Mary Margaret leave? They were meant to be together.

But she kept walking backward. “Go. Live your life. But without me, because there is no place for us together. Find someone who can love you the way I never have. The way I never will.”

She turned on her heel and ran, leaving him standing there, alone.

He wasn’t the same after that.

His friends didn’t understand. _Quit moping_ , they said. _She wasn’t that hot anyway. You can do better_. But David knew that Mary Margaret was the most amazing person he had ever known. There was no one else for him.

He tried to approach her once or twice, but she always slipped away when she saw him coming. That was as much of an answer as he was going to get. She didn’t want to talk to him, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who would ignore a girl’s wishes.

He let her be.

But that didn’t mean he got over her. His friends would have laughed at him if they knew how many times he cried himself to sleep over her. He dated other girls once or twice after that, but then stopped. There was no point. None of them were the girl for him, and he would only hurt them if he led them on.

In his senior year, his friend Frederick died suddenly of unknown causes. Mysterious deaths weren’t unusual in Storybrooke, but David had never had one hit so close to home before. Frederick’s girlfriend, Kathryn, took it particularly hard. David’s heart went out to her. It wasn’t the same situation, but David knew what it was to lose the person you loved. The two of them became friends. He knew she didn’t want to deal with other guys asking her out, so whenever a big event came up, he would ask her first.

It was in that way that he started going out with Kathryn Midas. It wasn’t love, not for either of them. But they were friends, and it was convenient, and it kept people from asking questions about things they’d rather not think about.

They went to different colleges, but stayed together. A long distance relationship served both of them well. Even as the years passed, neither one wanted to fall in love again. It was the only thing they had in common -- an inability to get over the love they’d lost.

It was years later, when Kathryn graduated law school and David had his masters, that she broached the subject.

“We could get married next summer,” she said offhandedly, as if she were talking about the weather or a walk in the park. “Our parents expect it.”

David was shocked. Even with all this time together, he’d never really thought about marriage. “Is--is that what you want?”

Kathryn shrugged. “Why not?”

And that was how David found himself engaged.

The day after the engagement announcement was published in the Storybrooke Mirror, David was sipping his morning coffee at Granny’s when a shadow over his table made him look up.

Mary Margaret stood in front of him.

She looked more beautiful than he even remembered her. Her hair was shorter, and her eyes were sadder, but she was still the most stunning human being he had ever seen. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight of her, and he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Mary Margaret.”

She smiled, and he thought there was something sweetly sad about it. “I just wanted to say how happy I am that you’ve found someone you can spend your life with,” she said in her soft voice. “And I wanted to tell you congratulations.”

She had it all wrong. He wanted to tell her everything. That she was the love of his life and always had been. That he would never get over her. That he didn’t want to marry Kathryn.

But nothing had changed. She didn’t love him, or want him, and nothing he could say would make a difference.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She smiled again, another sweetly sad smile, before turning and walking out the door. 

He didn’t let a tear fall until she was out of sight.

* * *

He saw her all the time now. She worked at the elementary school, and he was the principal of the high school across the street. It was not at all uncommon to see her walking toward the school building in the morning or headed out at the end of the day. Occasionally, he even got close enough to talk to her, and he cherished those moments like the treasures they were.

He didn’t know quite how he ended up here, married to a woman he didn’t love with the woman he did love forever out of his reach, but he was fairly certain there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. Fate just wasn’t on his side.

And that made regret pointless.

Still, if there was a way to stop regretting that Mary Margaret wasn’t his, he was pretty sure he’d never find it.

* * *

 

Mary Margaret closed the door to her classroom behind her and leaned against it for support. She had ten minutes before the children came in. Ten minutes to compose herself.

She’d had a crush on David Nolan since childhood, the foolish nerdy girl crushing on the most popular boy in school. She’d felt like the biggest cliche ever, fully aware even then how ridiculous it was -- but David was different than other boys, he really was. He cared about people and went out of his way to help them, and even though Mary Margaret was too shy to ever approach him, she knew he was special.

When she was sixteen, she managed to sneak out of the house to go to a dance, praying that Regina didn’t come back in time to find she’d gone -- and stolen one of her best dresses on top of it, a backless, silver gown that was thankfully not as revealing as most of Regina’s formal wear. It was like something out of a fairy tale when David singled her out, walking straight across the room to ask her, _her_ , to dance with him. He looked at her in a way that made her stomach flip, and he didn’t leave her side for the rest of the night, despite the disapproving looks the other girls kept throwing their way. When the night was over, he begged her to let him see her again, and she found herself agreeing despite her better judgement.

She kept seeing him for three months, sneaking away to meet him at the toll bridge where no one would see them. She told herself it couldn’t do any harm. It wasn’t as though he could really care for her. It was just a bit of fun, and she had so little of that in her life, after all. It would be over soon enough, so she might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

And then one day, he gave her a ring.

“I know it’s silly,” he said. “I know we’re too young to make any kind of commitment to each other. But I just wanted you to know that... I love you. And I never want to lose you.”

And Mary Margaret realized what a dangerous game she had been playing.

She pushed the ring back into his hand, barely aware of what explanation she managed to choke out. Something about not loving him, about not wanting to hurt him further. Lies that burned her throat as she forced them from her lips. The look on his face as she backed away from him would haunt her memories forever.

But she had no other choice. It was one thing to flirt around with a boy who would dump her and move on when he got tired of her. But love was something she couldn’t afford. Her stepmother was the most powerful vampire in Storybrooke, and for some reason, she was determined to hurt Mary Margaret in every way possible. Regina had already murdered her father. Mary Margaret couldn’t afford to let anyone else get close. She couldn’t go through that again.

That night, Mary Margaret cried, hot tears soaking into her pillow, until she fell asleep. When she woke the next morning with dry eyes, she vowed she would find a way out of Regina’s control.

That was the beginning of her study of witchcraft. She snuck around, hiding in the back shelves of the occult shop, absorbing every bit of knowledge she could from their books. She spent years studying, just trying to get enough power to get out of Regina’s grasp, and when she started to feel hopeless, she remembered David’s face, and it gave her strength. She just needed to be strong enough to protect herself -- and anyone she chose to love.

It was eight years before she gained her freedom from Regina, but she never stopped thinking of David. She knew it was crazy. David had been dating someone else for years. Still, she was free now, and Regina couldn’t harm her or anyone she cared about, and, well, it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, could it?

Apparently it could. An engagement announcement came out in the paper. David was getting married.

She had planned to approach him as he drank his morning coffee and confess her feelings for him. She couldn’t do that now. But she couldn’t let go of him without talking to him one last time.

The way he looked at her as she gave her congratulations almost made her believe he still loved her, even all these years later. But of course that was impossible. He had found someone who made him happy, and that should make her happy.

It didn’t.

There was no denying it. He had moved on. If he still loved her, he could have said something. He didn’t, because he had someone else, and he didn’t need the foolish little girl from his childhood anymore. It was time for her to move on as well.

Ten years later, Mary Margaret still hadn’t figured out how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to Rumbelle fans for the lack of Rumbelle in this chapter, and encourage you to check out A Dangerous Sound to get your Slayerverse Rumbelle fix if you haven't read it on tumblr.


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